<tH*v_«)v  M(UM 


Timmmmmm!! 


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S 

i 

,  i 

k 

i 

LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 

PRESENTED  BY 

ROBERT  L.  CA5HMAN 


THE   PRODIGAL   SOT* 


Cbc  prodigal  Son 


By  HALL  CAINE 


Author  of"  THE  MANXMAN,"  "  THE  DEEMSTER," 

''THE  CHRISTIAN,"  ''THE  ETERNAL  CITY," 

Etc.,  Etc. 


A.  L.  BURT   COMPANYy       ^    ^      ^      ^ 
A*     ^      ^       PUBLISHERS,  NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1904 
By  hall  CAINE 

^•'.'.  rishts  reserved 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


'Then  to  the  rolling  Heav'n  itself  I  cried. 
Asking.  '  What  Lamp  had  Destiny  to  guide 
Her  little  Children  stumbling  in  the  Dark?' 
And — 'A  blind  Understanding!'   Heav'n  replied/ 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

PART   I 1 

PART   II 65 

PART   III 124 

PART   IV 16f> 

PART   V 23(> 

PART   VI 307 

PART   VII  .         .         .         o        =         o         o         o         0         .  357 


THE  PRODIGAL  SON 

PAET  I 


The  worldly  hope  men  set  their  heai-ts  upon 
Turns  ashes — or  it  prospers  ;  and  anon 
Like  Snow  ^ipon  the  desert's  dusty  face 
Lighting  a  little  hour  or  two — is  gone." 


Iceland  had  never  looked  more  wonderful.  The  stem  old 
Northland,  which  in  the  daylight  bears  always  and  every- 
where on  its  sphinx-like  face  the  mutilating  imprint  of  the 
burnt-out  fires  of  ten  thousand  ages,  and  would  seem  to  be 
dead  but  for  the  murmurings  of  volcanic  life  in  its  sul- 
furous  womb,  lay  in  the  autumn  moonlight  like  a  great 
creature  asleep — calm,  august,  and  blue  as  the  night. 

The  moon  was  still  shining,  and  everything  seemed  to 
swim  in  the  soft  grace  of  its  silvery  light,  houses,  ships, 
fishing-boats,  the  fiord  in  front,  the  lake  behind,  the  black 
moorland  aroimd,  and  the  snow-tipped  mountains  beyond — 
when  the  little  wooden  capital  began  to  stir  in  the  morning. 

It  was  the  day  appointed  for  the  annual  sheep-gathering 
at  Thingvellir;  the  sheep-fold  was  thirty  odd  miles  away; 
there  were  no  railways  or  coaches,  and  few  roads  in  Ice- 
land, and  hence  the  younger  townspeople  who  intended  to 
make  a  holiday  of  the  event  had  to  set  out  early  on  their 
little  shaggy  ponies. 

As  the  clock  struck  four  in  the  tower  of  the  cathedral 
Thora  Neilsen,  the  daughter  of  Factor  Neilsen,  awoke  with 
a  start,  and  leapt  out  of  bed.  She  had  drawn  up  her  blinds 
the  night  before  so  that  the  daylight  might  waken  her  in 
the  morning,  but  before  she  realized  that  it  was  the  moon- 
light that  had  been  playing  upon  her  eyelids  she  was  stand- 


2  THE    TEODIGAL    SON 

ing  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  and  crying  in  the  ringing  voice 
of  youth  and  happiness : 

"Aunt  Margret!  Auntie!  IVe  overslept  myself!  I'll 
be  late !    Auntie !     Auntie !  " 

Then  the  measured  and  sonorous  breathing  which  had 
been  coming  through  an  open  door  from  the  adjoining  room 
was  interrupted  by  an  older  voice,  a  good-natured  voice  try- 
ing to  be  angry,  and  saying  drowsily : 

"  Drat  the  girl,  she'll  waken  the  whole  house." 

This  was  followed  by  the  creaking  of  a  bed  and  the  thud 
of  bare  feet  on  the  floor,  accompanied  by  a  running  fire  of 
grumbling,  in  which  the  speaker  reminded  herself  that  she 
was  not  a  cat,  capable  of  sleeping  in  the  daytime,  and  if  she 
had  to  be  called  up  in  the  dead  of  night  she  might  at  least 
be  permitted  to  wash  her  face. 

The  girl  listened  for  a  moment  and  laughed — the  light 
and  joyous  laugh  of  the  soul  that  has  never  known  soitow. 
She  was  young  and  unusually  fair.  Iler  height  was  under 
rather  than  over  the  average  height  of  woman,  and  if  her 
face  was  not  beautiful  it  produced  the  effect  of  beauty,  being 
one  of  those  soft-featured  faces  which  have  a  smile  always 
playing  upon  them,  even  when  the  o^vner  does  not  know  it 
to  be  there. 

She  lit  her  candles,  dropped  her  Venetians,  and  began  to 
dress  herself,  humming  a  tune  to  show  she  was  not  con- 
cerned. By  this  time  the  rumbling  artillery  from  the  next 
apartment  entered  the  room  in  the  person  of  an  elderly 
lady,  who  looked  more  than  usually  grotesque  (if  it  is  fair 
to  take  her  at  such  a  moment)  in  abbreviated  underwear 
and  small  calico  nightcap,  with  bobs  of  hair  in  papers  about 
her  forehead  like  barnacles  on  the  figurehead  of  a  ship  that 
is  fresh  from  a  long  service  in  foreign  waters. 

This  was  Aunt  Margret,  with  goodness  written  on  every 
line  of  her  old  face,  but  with  a  tongue  that  fell  like  a  foun- 
tain on  sharp  stones  and  knew  nothing  of  dry  weather.  The 
moment  she  set  eyes  on  Thora  in  the  preliminary  stages  of 
her  toilet  she  cried : 

"  Silk?  At  this  time  in  the  morning?  And  who  is  to  see 
them  under  your  big  boots,  if  you  please  ?  " 

The  girl  laughed  at  this,  as  she  laughed  at  everything, 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  3 

and  said :  "  Very  well,  give  me  the  woollen  ones  then.  But 
what  a  cross  old  thing  you  are,  auntie.  You  knew  I  had  to 
get  up  early,  having  a  six  hours'  ride  before  me." 

"  But  who  wants  you  to  have  a  six  hours'  ride,  I  wonder  ?  " 
said  Aunt  Margret,  bustling  about  breathlessly  to  get  the 
girl  ready. 

"  You  know  quite  well  who  wants  me,  auntie — Magnus 
wants  me.  When  they  elected  him  mountain-king  for  the 
year  I  promised  him  faithfully  that  I  would  go  to  the  sheep- 
gathering,  and  of  course " 

"  Don't  try  to  fool  an  old  fox,  my  dear,  but  come  and 
wash  in  this  water.  It  isn't  because  Magnus  wants  you  at 
the  sheep-gathering,  but  because  somebody  else  is  going  to 
take  you  there." 

"  Auntie  1 "  cried  Thora,  lifting  a  dripping  face  from  the 
washbasin. 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  color  up  like  fire,  my  precious — I  know 
it's  the  truth  without  that." 

"  How  absurd  you  are.  Aunt  Margret !  You  know  as 
well  as  I  do  that  Magnus  himself  asked  Oscar  to  take  me. 
He  wrote  expressly  from  the  farm,  not  having  seen  Oscar 
since  he  came  from  college,  and  wanting  to  kill  two  birds 
with  one  stone." 

"  The  more  fool  he !  "  said  Aunt  Margret.  "  The  man 
who  expects  to  marry  a  girl  and  asks  another  man  to  look 
after  her  while  he  is  away  is  a  fool,  and  his  friends  ought 
to  take  care  of  him.  It's  only  the  simpleton  who  shuts  the 
door  with  a  bang  behind  him  like  that." 

"  What  a  nonsensical  woman  you  are,  auntie ! "  said 
Thora.     "  Oscar  is  Magnus's  brother." 

"  Brother,  indeed !  So  was  Jacob  the  brother  of  Esau,  and 
Cain  was  the  brother  of  Abel,  and  those  ten  big  beauties  were 
the  brothers  of  Joseph  and  Benjamin." 

"  Good  gracious  me.  Aunt  Margret,  what  a  bad  dispo- 
Bition  you've  got!  That's  the  worst  of  you — you  have  got 
such  a  bad  disposition.  You  talk  of  Oscar  Stephenson  as 
if  he  were  a  regular  reprobate  instead  of  the  son  of  the 
Governor,  and  the  idol  of  everybody." 

"  It's  easy  to  defend  some  one  whom  nobody  wants  to  strike. 
I  don't  say  anything  against  Oscar." 


4  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  Of  course,  you  don't,  you  cross  old  creature.  You're 
fonder  of  him  than  anybody  else,  and  I  believe  you  want  him 
for  yourself,  you  jealous  thing,  because  you  think  he  is  the 
brightest  and  cleverest  and  best-looking  young  man  in 
Iceland." 

"  Many  things  glitter  in  the  goldsmith's  shop,  but  a  sen- 
sible woman  doesn't  want  to  grab  the  whole  of  them." 

"And  do  I,  you  silly?" 

"  It  looks  as  if  you  do,  my  dear ;  but  sit  down  here  before 
the  glass  and  let  me  brush  your  hair.  You  are  to  be  mar- 
ried to  Magnus,  and  your  public  betrothal  is  to  take  place 
the  day  after  to-morrow  in  the  presence  of  both  the  families, 
yet  you've  had  Oscar  here  every  day,  and  all  day,  since  he 
came  home  from  England  a  week  ago,  and  now  you  are 
going  to  ride  with  him  to  Thingvellir.  You'll  make  mis- 
chief, I  promise  you.  Two  dogs  at  the  same  bone  seldom 
agree." 

At  that  the  girl  was  taken  with  a  violent  fit  of  laughing. 
"  Auntie,  what  names  you  are  calling  us !  " 

"  Better  I  should  do  so  than  somebody  else !  The  people 
here  are  all  ears,  and  Oscar  is  all  mouth — he  is  always  talk- 
ing about  you." 

"  ISTot  always,  auntie."  Thora's  pretty  face  was  reddening 
in  the  glass  in  front  of  her. 

"  Always !  Only  yesterday  he  said,  '  My  future  sister-in- 
law ' " 

"  Not  '  future  sister-in-law,'  auntie." 

"Did  I  speak,  or  did  I  not  speak,  Thora?  'My  future 
sister-in-law  is  perfectly  charming,'  he  said " 

"Now,  I'm  sure  it  wasn't  'charming,'  auntie  darling.'.'; 

"  Yes,  it  was,  and  hold  your  silly  head  quiet,  miss — '  per- 
fectly charming,'  he  said,  '  and  I'm  half  jealous  of  old  Mag- 
nus already.' " 

The  blue  eyes  in  the  glass  were  gleaming  with  delight,  but 
the  mouth  said,  "  Well,  of  course,  I  should  have  been  dread- 
fully vexed  if  I  had  heard  him  say  that,  but  still  it  isn't 
my  fault " 

"  Fiddlesticks !  "  said  Aunt  Margret  with  a  sniff  of  con- 
tempt, "  Just  take  a  cranky  old  woman's  advice,  my  pre- 
cious, and  don't  make  trouble  between  two  brothers." 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  5 

Then  the  shining  face  in  the  glass  became  serious  and 
thoughtful,  and  Thora   said : 

"  How  can  you  say  such  uncomfortable  things.  Aunt  Mar- 
gret?  Merely  because  I  am  going  to  ride  with  Oscar  to  the 
sheep-gathering " 

"  Oh,  a  little  brook  can  start  a  big  river.  But  what's  the 
use  of  talking — a  beast  can  be  broken,  but  not  a  wilful 
woman." 

Then  seeing  that  the  tears  were  in  Thora's  eyes  Aunt  Mar- 
gret  gave  the  girl's  hair  a  softer  smoothing,  and  said : 

"  Magnus  may  not  be  as  clever  as  his  brother,  Thora,  but 
he  is  twenty  times  as  solid  and  steady,  and  he  is  just  as  able 
to  take  care  of  a  girl,  and  quite  as  likely  to  make  her  happy. 
Besides,  dear,  it's  all  settled  and  done,  and  the  made  road 
is  easiest  to  travel,  you  know.  Your  marriage  with  Magnus 
has  been  arranged  between  your  father  and  the  Governor; 
they  have  set  their  hearts  on  it,  the  contract  is  ready,  and  if 
anything  should  happen  now " 

But  Thora,  who  had  been  listening  with  head  aslant  to 
sounds  outside  the  house,  suddenly  leapt  to  her  feet,  saying, 
"  I  do  believe  that's  Silvertop's  step." 

There  was  a  clatter  of  hoofs  on  the  cobbles  of  the  street, 
and  at  the  next  moment  a  silvery  male  voice  under  the  win- 
dow was  crying, 

"Helloa!     Helloa!     Helloa!" 

Thora  ran  to  the  Venetians,  parted  two  blades  of  them,  and 
6ai(^'  with  an  air  of  surprise,  "  It's  Oscar !  "  Then  she  tapped 
the  window-pane,  and  cried  "  Presently  "  to  the  person  out- 
side, and  stood  for  a  moment  to  look  down  at  him. 

A  young  man  of  three-and-twenty  sat  on  one  pony  and  held 
another  by  its  bridle.  He  was  tall  and  slim,  almost  as  fair 
as  Thora  herself,  and  he  had  a  cluster  of  short  curls  under 
the  Alpine  hat  which  he  raised  to  the  moving  blind.  The 
moon  had  gone  by  this  time;  a  greyish-pink  light — the  pio- 
neer of  the  sun — was  filtering  through  a  vaporous  atmosphere ; 
the  ships  and  fishing  boats  in  the  bay  were  breaking  through 
a  veil  of  mist,  and  vague  shadows  of  men  and  women,  mufiled^>„ 
up  to  the  throats,  but  chattering  and  laughing  like  children, ' 
were  coming  and  going  in  the  gloom  of  the  streets. 

"  Quick,  auntie,  quick !  "  cried  Thora,  lowering  her  voice. 


6  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

and  while  the  women  in  the  bedroom  hustled  about  and 
talked  in  whispers  the  young  man  waiting  outside  slapped 
his  leggings  with  his  riding  whip,  and  whistled  and  sang  al- 
ternate lines  of  a  love-song — 

*'  Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes, 
And  I  will  pledge  with  mine." 

"  Must  I  wear  these  ugly ?  " 


"  Certainly  you  must.     They're  warm  and  comfortable, 

and  it's  not  as  if  anybody  could  see " 

"  Auntie,  don't  speak  so  loud,  or  people  will  hear." 

"  Or  leave  a  kiss  within  the  cup, 
And  I'll  not  ask  for  wine." 

"What  a  voice  he  has!  I'm  certain  he'll  make  a  success 
some  day." 

"  Maybe  so,  but  people  don't  feed  on  voices — not  in  Ice- 
land, anyway — here's  your  over-skirt." 

"  For  goodness  sake,  Aunt  Margret !  " 

"  The  thirst  that  from  the  soul  doth  come 
Doth  ask  a  draught  divine." 

"  Now  for  my  hat !  If  I  have  to  wear  this  old  black  riding 
habit  I  must  have  something  sweet  on  my  head,  at  all  events. 
That  one  with  the  feather — no,  this  one  and  a  veil.  There! 
Do  I  look  nice  ?  " 

"  Shockingly  nice,  if  you  ask  me." 

The  girl  laughed  gaily,  and  said  in  a  louder  voice,  "  Then 
let  us  go  downstairs — the  poor  boy  must  be  tired  of  waiting, 
and  anxious  to  be  off." 

"  Not  half  so  anxious  as  the  poor  girl,  I'm  thinking." 

Then  the  smiling  face  became  serious  again,  and  Thora 
said,  "  Don't  say  those  dreadful  things  any  more,  there's  a 
dear  soul !  " 

"  Then  don't  forget  my  warning,  and  watch  over  your  feel- 
ings, my  precious." 

The  door  to  the  street  was  being  opened  by  this  time,  and 
a  rich  bary'tone  voice,  mingled  with  the  soft  murmur  of  the 
sea,  came  floating  into  the  hall — 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  7 

*•  But  might  I  of  Jove's  nectar  sip 
I  would  not  change ." 

"Helloa!  Good  morning,  Thora!  Is  that  Aunt  Mar- 
gret?" 

From  behind  the  bulwark  of  the  door  ajar,  with  one  eye 
and  two  curl  papers  visible  in  three  inches  of  opening,  Aunt 
Margret  answered  that  it  was,  and  told  Oscar,  as  he  lifted 
Thora  to  the  saddle,  to  take  care  of  her  child  and  deliver 
her  safely  to  Magnus. 

Oscar  laughed  a  little  jauntily,  and  answered — not,  she 
thought,  with  too  much  conviction — 

"  That'll  be  all  right,  auntie.    Good-by ! " 

«Good-by!" 

"  Good-by,  Aunt  Margret !  " 

"  Good-by,  Thora !    And  remember !  " 

At  the  next  moment  the  two  young  people  had  disap- 
peared in  the  mists  of  morning,  amid  a  cavalcade  of  sim- 
ilar shadows  dying  ofi  in  the  same  direction.  Half  an  hour 
afterward  the  sun  had  risen  and  the  little  capital  was  going 
merrily. 

n 

The  father  of  Oscar  Stephenson  was  Stephen  Magnusson, 
(according  to  his  Icelandic  patronymic),  and  he  had  been 
Governor-General  of  Iceland  for  more  than  twenty  years. 
He  was  a  man  of  the  highest  integrity  and  of  the  firmest 
mind.  In  his  public  character  he  was  zealous  and  incorrupt- 
ible, and  his  private  life  was  without  stain.  His  chief  char- 
acteristics were  dignity  and  pride. 

The  father  of  Thora  was  Oscar  Neilsen,  commonly  called 
Factor  Neilsen  (of  Icelandic  birth,  but  Danish  descent), 
and  he  was  the  chief  merchant  and  one  of  the  richest  citizens 
of  the  capital.  His  business  methods  had  often  been  a  sub- 
ject for  discussion,  and  his  domestic  history  a  cause  of  gos- 
sip. He  was  a  man  of  untiring  indiistry  and  great  frugality, 
amounting  almost  to  greed. 

These  two  men  had  been  lifelong  friends.  Their  friend- 
ehip  had  not  been  founded  on  any  hollow  commercial  league, 


8  THE    PRODIGAL    SO^ST 

but  nevertheless  it  had  been  cemented  by  community  of 
interest,  and  it  was  a  common  saying  that  the  man  who 
coiild  break  it  could  break  the  constitution.  It  was  one  of 
those  friendships  that  are  young  after  fifty  years,  and  are 
constantly  growing  younger  because  they  are  always  growing 
older — a  peculiarity  of  all  friendships  that  are  true  and  con- 
etant,  and  the  reason  why  new  friendships  can  never  take  the 
place  of  old  ones.  Half  a  word  explained  a  meaning,  half  a 
look  provoked  a  laugh.  Their  friendship  was  the  unwritten 
history  of  their  past,  a  living  obituary  of  memories  and  ideas 
that  were  dead.  It  began  in  boyhood,  and  notwithstanding 
varying  fortunes,  and  some  family  differences,  it  had  never 
been  darkened  by  so  much  as  the  shadow  of  a  cloud.  But 
people  said  that  if  Stephen  Magnusson  and  Oscar  Xeilsen 
ever  ceased  to  be  friends  they  would  become  the  bitterest  of 
enemies. 

They  went  through  the  Latin  School  together  as  boys,  and 
were  two  of  four  Icelandic  students  who  were  sent  with  sti- 
pends to  the  University  at  Copenhagen.  That  was  in  the  days 
when  student  life  was  not  so  regular  as  it  might  have  been, 
but  three  of  them  got  through  without  serious  damage,  while 
the  fourth  made  a  slip  which  was  perhaps  the  first  cause  of 
the  present  story. 

When  the  time  came  to  separate,  one  of  the  four  went  to 
Oxford  as  an  assistant  in  the  library,  and  became  a  Univer- 
sity lecturer,  and  another  went  to  London  to  be  clerk  in  a 
bank,  and  rose  to  be  manager.  The  other  two  remained 
faithful  to  their  nationalities,  and  Stephen  Magnusson  re- 
turned to  Iceland  to  practise  law,  while  Oscar  Neilsen  staj'ed 
in  Denmark  to  follow  commerce. 

Within  ten  years  the  friends  had  made  rapid  progress. 
Stephen  had  risen  from  advocate  to  assessor,  from  assessor 
to  deputy-governor,  and  from  deputy-governor  to  governor- 
general,  while  Neilsen  had  re-established  hitaself  in  Iceland, 
first  as  factor  for  a  firm  in  Copenhagen,  and  afterward  as  a 
merchant  on  his  own  responsibility. 

In  the  meantime  both  men  had  married.  The  Governor 
married  the  daughter  and  only  child  of  Grim,  owner  of  the 
farm  at  Thingvellir,  one  of  the  largest  farms  in  Iceland. 
The  Factor,  to  everybody's  surprise,  married  before  he  re- 


THE    PEODIGAL    SON  9 

turned  home,  and  nobody  knew  anything  of  his  wife  except 
that  she  came  from  Copenhagen.  But  scandal  seldom  loses 
its  way  in  the  dark,  and  it  was  whispered  that  the  Factor's 
wife  had  been  a  little  actress  of  the  lighter  sort,  and  had 
been  compelled  to  marry. 

The  wife  of  the  Governor  had  borne  him  two  sons.  He 
christened  the  first  of  them  Magnus,  after  his  father,  but 
the  second  he  called  Oscar,  after  his  friend,  who  had  arrived 
in  time  to  stand  godfather  at  the  baptism.  In  like  manner 
the  wife  of  the  Factor  had  borne  two  daughters.  She 
brought  the  eldest  in  her  arms  when  she  arrived  in  Iceland, 
and  the  Factor  called  her  Thora,  after  his  mother.  The 
second,  born  soon  afterward,  he  would  have  called  Anna, 
after  his  friend's  wife,  but  his  own  wife  objected,  and  it 
was  christened  Helga,  after  herself.  There  were  not  many 
years  between  the  births  of  the  children,  but  Magnus  was 
the  eldest  and  Ilelga  the  youngest,  while  Oscar  and  Thora 
were  almost  of  one  age. 

The  wives  of  the  two  friends  could  hardly  have  been  more 
unlike  each  other.  Anna  was  homely  in  looks,  dress,  and 
habits.  In  practical  matters  she  was  a  typical  Iceland 
housewife,  thrifty  and  economical.  Although  the  position 
of  Governor-General  was  one  of  considerable  dignity  it  was 
far  from  a  fat  living,  and  Anna  set  her  sail  according  to  the 
draught  of  her  husband's  ship.  She  was  shrewd,  but  not 
well  educated,  and  wise,  but  not  enlightened,  and  she  gov- 
erned the  Governor  by  obeying  him.  Stephen  found  his 
wife  his  safest  steward  and  most  faithful  counsellor.  He 
had  a  profound  respect  for  her  instinct,  but  not  too  much 
reverence  for  her  intellect.  When  in  doubt  he  always  con- 
sulted her,  and  while  she  told  him  what  he  ought  to  do  he  sat 
and  listened  attentively,  but  as  soon  as  she  began  to  explain 
her  reasons  he  got  up  and  fled. 

The  Factor's  wife  was  distinctly  comely,  volatile,  and  vain, 
and  her  conduct  on  coming  to  Iceland  might  have  been  cal- 
culated to  justify  the  scandal  that  was  coupled  with  her 
name.  She  was  extravagant  in  her  dress,  unthrifty  in  her 
home,  restless  in  her  habits,  and  romantic  in  her  tastes,  and 
after  a  while  she  began  to  gird  at  the  monotony  and  dreari- 
ness of  the  life  about  her.  A  light  wife  makes  a  heavy  hus- 
2 


10  THE    TEODIGAL    SON 

band,  and  the  Factor,  -who  was  not  then  rich,  was  made  to 
realize  that  in  marrying?  his  Danish  beauty  he  had  bought  a 
commodity  which  he  could  neither  exchange  nor  return — a 
housekeeper  who  neglected  his  house,  and  a  mother  who 
cared  little  for  his  children. 

The  children  were  the  first  to  feel  their  mother's  loss  of 
interest  in  Iceland,  for  while  Government  House  was  for- 
ever warm  and  joyous  with  some  noisy  festival — Magnus's 
first  holiday  or  Oscar's  last  birthday — there  were  no  holi- 
days or  birthdays  in  their  own  home,  which  was  always  quiet 
and  generally  cold.  But  the  mother's  ear  is  thin,  and  across 
the  gap  that  opened  between  the  houses  of  the  Governor 
and  the  Factor,  Anna  heard  the  hearts  of  the  little  girls  and 
concocted  schemes  to  get  at  them.  The  Factor's  wife  was 
nothing  loth  to  be  rid  of  her  tiresome  charges  while  she 
devoured  dramatic  newspapers  and  French  novels,  and  thus 
it  came  to  pass  that  Thora  and  Helga  spent  half  of  their 
early  days  with  Anna,  and  that  as  long  as  they  lived  there- 
after hers  was  the  mother's  form  that  stood  up  in  their 
memory  when  they  looked  back  to  the  blue  mountains  of 
childhood  and  youth. 

Gathered  together  under  Anna's  wing,  what  times  the 
four  children  had  of  it !  As  long  as  they  were  little.  Govern- 
ment House  was  like  a  nest  of  song-birds,  and  if  at  some 
moments  it  resembled  more  nearly  a  menagerie  of  monkeys, 
it  was  always  alive  and  always  happy.  Except  the  Gover- 
nor's bureau,  they  took  possession  of  the  whole  place,  includ- 
ing the  kitchen,  for  there  was  only  one  servant  in  those  days, 
and  she  was  as  fond  of  them  as  her  mistress.  In  summer 
time  they  ran  wild  over  the  home-field,  and  in  winter  they 
romped  through  every  room  in  the  house.  Anna  spoiled  the 
whole  of  them,  for  she  never  knew  how  to  be  cross  with 
children,  and  at  Christmas  and  New  Year  she  helped  them 
to  keep  up  their  noisy  customs — boiling  the  toffy  which  they 
pulled  into  twisted  sticks  amid  shrieks  of  delighted  laughter, 
and  lighting  the  candlee  with  which  they  marched  in  awe- 
some procession  from  chimney  to  coal-hole  to  find  the  hidden 
folk  from  the  hills — and  bad  fairies  who  came  to  steal  good 
children. 

On  such  high  days  and  holidays  the  Governor  and  the 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  11 

Factor,  smoking  their  long  German  pipes,  would  come  from 
the  bureau  to  the  door  of  the  kitchen  to  look  on  at  the 
childish  revels.  And  seeing  Anna  in  the  midst  of  them, 
like  a  fairy  godmother  grown  middle-aged  and  matronly, 
but  with  the  loveliness  of  love  still  shining  over  her  homely 
face,  the  Governor  would  say  to  himself,  "  God  bless  her ! " 
And  the  Factor  would  mutter,  "  God  bless  my  motherless 
girls ! "  And  then  the  two  old  friends  would  drop  their 
heads,  and  go  back  to  talk  politics. 


in 

The  child  grows,  but  his  clothes  do  not,  neither  do  his  char- 
acteristics. What  the  children  of  the  Governor  and  the  Fac- 
tor were  at  the  beginning  of  their  lives  they  remained  to  the 
end.  Thora  was  always  a  merry  little  woman,  with  a  con- 
stant smile  on  her  comely  face.  She  was  usually  following 
or  clinging  to  somebody — generally  Oscar — but  she  could  sit 
for  hours  coaxing,  scolding,  and  singing  to  her  doll,  for  the 
instinct  of  motherhood  was  strong  in  her  from  the  first. 

Helga  was  at  all  points  the  opposite  of  her  sister.  She  had 
black  hair,  a  broad  brow,  large  hazel  eyes  that  were  often  half 
closed,  a  nose  that  was  very  slightly  turned  up  at  the  tip, 
and  a  lai^e  mouth  with  thin,  red  lips  which  were  generally 
a  little  awry.  A  witch  may  be  found  under  a  fair  com- 
plexion, and  an  angel  under  a  dark  skin,  but  Helga  did  not 
belie  her  looks.  She  was  as  bright  as  a  pebble  of  the  brook, 
and  just  as  hard  and  self -centered.  Sufiicient  to  herself,  she 
clung  to  no  one,  but  loved  to  have  the  eyes  of  everybody  upon 
her.  She  sang  like  a  throstle,  and  was  fond  of  dressing  her- 
self up  in  grand  disguises  of  paper  crowns  and  coronets, 
being  full  of  make-believe,  and  never  quite  able  to  distinguish 
fact  from  fiction. 

The  sons  of  the  Governor  were  not  less  unlike  each  other. 
Magnus  was  a  big,  heavy,  black-haired  boy,  silent  and  slow, 
and  thought  to  be  rather  stupid.  He  found  it  hard  to  learn, 
and  his  face  had  often  a  puzzled  expression,  sometimes  a 
gloomy  and  morose  one.    On  the  other  hand,  his  moral  char* 


12  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

acter  was  as  sensitive  as  his  intellect  was  sluggish.  If  he 
borrowed  a  penny  he  would  never  rest  until  he  had  paid  it 
back,  and  if  any  one  lent  him  a  pencil  he  would  walk  a  mile 
to  return  it.  As  a  consequence  his  sense  of  injustice  was 
keen  to  the  point  of  agony,  and  he  suffered  more  from  an 
unmerited  rebuke  than  from  a  blow.  He  liked  best  to  visit 
the  family  faim  at  Thingvellir,  and  when  asked  what  he 
was  going  to  be  he  plumped  for  being  a  farmer.  Always 
fond  of  animals  he  filled  the  house  with  dogs,  cats  and 
white  mice,  and  seemed  to  love  nothing  else  except  his 
mother.  Not  a  lovable  boy,  and  a  rather  surly  and  unhappy 
one,  he  was  by  no  means  a  general  favorite,  but  Anna  was 
very  fond  of  him. 

Oscar  was  so  totally  unlike  Magnus  in  every  quality  of 
mind  and  heart  that  it  was  difHcuIt  to  believe  they  could  be 
brothers.  The  fair-haired  little  fellow  with  the  handsome 
face  was  as  sweet-tempered  as  the  sunshine,  and  as  full  of 
laughter  as  a  running  river.  He  could  learn  anything  with- 
out an  effort,  and  he  had  an  extraordinary  ear  for  music. 
Before  he  could  speak  properly  he  imitated  the  notes  of  any 
instrument  from  the  organ  to  the  guitar,  and  before  he  knew 
his  alphabet  he  wrote  mysterious  musical  hieroglyphics  on 
scraps  of  paper,  which  the  Governor  carried  off  to  his  bureau 
and  hoarded  up  like  treasures  more  precious  than  gold.  But 
in  giving  him  something  like  genius  Nature  had  taken 
away  character — without  which  genius  is  a  curse.  The  merry 
little  soul  did  not  seem  to  know  right  from  wrong,  or  truth 
from  a  lie.  He  was  always  glancing  from  one  thing  to  an- 
other like  the  sun  on  an  April  day.  If  crying  one  minute  he 
was  laughing  the  next.  Nothing  troubled  him  long,  but, 
also,  nothing  seized  and  held  him.  He  began  by  announcing 
that  he  intended  to  be  a  king;  rather  later  he  thought  it 
would  be  grander  to  be  a  general,  but  going  one  evening 
with  the  organist  of  the  cathedral  to  his  weekly  rehearsal, 
he  finally  concluded  that  to  be  organ-blower  would  be  best 
of  all. 

Nobody  loved  him  the  less  for  his  infirmities  of  character, 
for  it  is  one  of  the  whims  of  the  human  heart  that  the  people 
who  run  most  strictly  within  the  laws  of  life  find  an  ir- 
resistible fascination  in  the  recklessness  of  those  who  kick 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  13 

over  the  traces.  Oscar  was  the  privileged  pet  of  everybody 
and  the  idol  of  his  father's  eyes. 

"  Ah,  Stephen,  you'll  never  rear  that  boy,"  said  the 
Factor. 

"  Nonsense !     Why  shouldn't  I  ?  " 

"  Whom  the  gods  love  die  young,  you  know.'* 

"  That's  only  because  they  never  grow  old,"  said  the 
Governor. 

From  the  first  Oscar  was  fond  of  a  pageant,  and  always 
wanted  to  be  marching  in  procession,  like  a  victorious  gen- 
eral, with  the  juvenile  equivalents  for  banners  and  bands  of 
music.  One  day  he  was  doing  so,  playing  a  tune  of  his  own 
composing  on  a  comb,  with  Helga  as  an  eager  lieutenant, 
Thora  as  a  submissive  soldier,  and  Magnus  as  a  subservient 
slave  behind  him,  when  coming  to  a  river  that  crossed  the 
home-field  a  desire  for  caraage  seized  the  general,  and  back- 
ing suddenly  on  the  narrow  bridge  he  toppled  his  folloAvers 
into  the  water.  Magnus  and  Helga  escaped  without  serious 
consequences,  but,  as  nobody  is  anybody's  brother  in  a  game, 
Thora,  being  dragged  doAvn  by  her  sister,  was  drenched  to 
the  skin. 

The  Governor  came  up  at  the  moment  when  Magnus  was 
hauling  Thora  on  to  the  bank,  and  he  was  angry. 

"  Was  it  an  accident  ?  "  he  asked,  but  the  children  did  not 
answer.  "  Then  who  did  it  ? "  he  demanded,  but  Thora,  to 
whom  he  spoke,  looked  first  at  Oscar  and  then  at  Helga  and 
began  to  ciy.  "  Was  it  you,  Oscar  ? "  Oscar  hesitated  for 
an  instant,  but  Helga  touched  his  sleeve  and  he  shook  his 
head.  "  Was  it  you,  Helga  ?  "  Helga  promptly  answered, 
"  j^o."  "  Then  it  must  have  been  you,  Magnus,"  said  the 
Governor,  and  Magnus  flushed  crimson  all  over  his  face  and 
neck,  but  made  no  reply.  "  Was  it  you  ? "  Magnus's  mouth 
quivered,  but  still  he  did  not  speak.  "  So  it  was  you,  sir, 
and  you  can  go  indoors  and  to  bed  immediately." 

Without  a  word  or  a  tear,  but  with  a  look  of  defiance,  Mag- 
nus wagged  his  head  and  turned  toward  the  house.  Seeing 
him  go,  Oscar  wanted  to  blurt  out  the  truth,  but  his  melting 
eyes  encountered  Helga's,  which  held  them  fast,  and  he 
said  nothing. 

It  was  one  of  Anna's  many  birthdays,  and  from  the  upper 


14  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

room  where  all  was  silent  and  cold  Magnus  heard  the  chil- 
dren's voices  below  stairs,  at  fii*st  hushed  and  restrained, 
but  after  a  while  merry  enough,  with  Oscar's  voice  amongst 
the  rest,  and  Helga's  above  evcrj'body's.  The  laughter  and 
joking  burnt  into  his  soul,  and  at  last  he  struck  the  table  with 
his  fist  and  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears. 

Then  through  the  sound  of  his  own  sobs  a  thin  whimper 
came  from  somewhere,  whispering,  "  Magnus !  Magnus !  " 
It  was  Thora  at  the  keyhole. 

"  Go  away,"  said  Magnus,  gruffly,  but  Thora  did  not  go. 

"  Magnus,  shall  I  tell  ? "  said  Thora,  and  Magnus  blinked 
several  times  as  the  big  tears  rained  down  his  cheeks,  but  still 
he  answered,  "  Go  away,  I  tell  you." 

At  that  Thora  fell  to  kissing  the  keyhole,  and  Magnus  had 
stopped  his  sobbing  to  listen,  when  he  heard  another  voice — 
Anna's  voice — outside  the  door,  and  then  the  child  was 
taken  away. 

As  soon  as  the  birthday  party  was  over  and  the  girls  were 
gone,  Oscar  began  to  ask  for  Magnus,  but  the  Governor 
patted  his  curly  head  and  said  Magnus  had  been  naughty, 
and  must  sleep  alone  that  night.  Half  an  hour  later  Anna 
found  him  crying  with  his  head  under  the  bedclothes,  and 
she  said,  "  Hide  nothing  from  your  father,  my  child." 

The  Governor  was  sitting  alone  in  his  bureau  when  a  little 
figure  in  a  dressing  gown  came  in,  with  swimming  eyes  and 
trembling  lips,  saying,  "  It  wasn't  Magnus,  papa.  It 
was "  and  then  a  wild  outburst  of  weeping. 

The  Governor  was  more  touched  by  Oscar's  confession 
than  by  Magnus's  silence.  He  patted  Oscar's  head  again 
and  said,  "  That  was  very,  very  wrong  of  you,  curly  pate ; 
but  go  and  beg  your  brother's  pardon  and  take  him  off  to 
bed." 

When  Anna  went  upstairs  again  she  found  two  heads  on 
the  pillow  side  by  side — the  dark  as  well  as  the  fair  one — and 
Magnus  was  listening  and  Oscar  was  talking,  and  both  were 
laughing  merrily. 

As  soon  as  the  youngest  of  the  children  was  fourteen  win- 
ters old  they  were  confirmed  together.  There  was  only  one 
other  candidate,  little  Neils,  the  Sheriff's  son,  whose  mother 
■was  dead.     In  the  preliminary  examination  it  was  expected 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON"  15 

that  Oscar  would  come  first,  Helga  second,  ISTeils  and  Thora 
next,  and  Magnus  last.  The  Rector  examined  them,  and  when 
the  moment  came  to  declare  the  order  of  the  candidates  he 
looked  serious  and  even  severe. 

Oscar,  with  a  sparkle  in  his  eyes,  was  carrying  himself 
gaily,  and  Helga  was  at  her  ease,  while  Thora  and  Neils  were 
trembling  with  anxiety,  and  Magnus  was  nibbling  his  thumb 
nail,  for  he  was  in  dread  of  not  being  accepted  at  all,  and 
in  that  case,  as  his  new  black  suit  had  been  bought,  he  would 
be  afraid  to  go  home.  But  when  the  Rector  had  cleared 
his  throat,  and  called  for  silence,  he  announced  a  great  sur- 
prise. 

"  Magnus  is  first,"  he  said,  "  Thora  second,  Neils  third, 
Ilelga  fourth,  and  Oscai* — Oscar  is  last." 

Then  he  turned  to  Oscar  and  said,  "  You  are  rightly 
served,  my  son,  for  you  might  have  done  better,  and  you  took 
no  trouble.  Take  an  old  man's  word  for  it,  Oscar — in  the 
race  of  life  it  isn't  always  the  rider  who  comes  in  first  that 
was  the  last  to  put  on  his  spurs !  " 

Oscar  was  crushed  with  shame,  but  he  recovered  himself 
in  a  moment,  and  while  the  others  looked  at  him  to  see  what 
he  would  do — Helga,  with  her  mouth  awry,  and  Thora,  with 
eyes  that  could  not  see  distinctly,  and  a  throat  that  could  not 
swallow — he  swung  about  to  where  Magnus  was  standing 
with  head  down,  blushing  like  a  baby,  and  gripped  and  shook 
his  hand. 

It  was  a  beautiful  confirmation  service.  The  cathedral 
was  full  of  women,  but  the  Governor  was  with  Anna  in  their 
pew  in  the  gallery,  and  the  Factor,  who  was  alone,  sat  in 
his  seat  below.  The  children  knelt  in  a  line  on  the  lower 
step  of  the  communion  rail,  the  girls  in  muslin  frocks  and 
veils,  and  the  boys  in  black  suits  and  white  gloves.  The 
morning  was  bright  and  warm,  and  the  sun  was  shining 
from  the  chancel  windows  on  to  the  five  drooping  heads  as 
the  old  Bishop  laid  his  hands  on  them  one  by  one. 

When  the  little  ones  had  made  their  vows  the  Bishop  de- 
livered an  address :  "  Be  true,  be  strong,  be  faithful !  Think 
of  the  covenant  you  have  made  with  God,  and  resist  tempta- 
tion. If  Satan  tempts  you  with  the  treasures  of  this  life, 
remember  that  wealth  and  power  are  only  for  a  day,  while 


16  THE    PKODIGAL    SON 

a  dishonored  name  is  for  a  thousand  years.  Love  one  an- 
other, my  children !  No  one  knows  how  soon  the  world  may 
separate  you,  or  with  what  sorrow  and  tears  you  may  yet 
be  torn  asunder,  but  keep  together  as  long  as  you  can,  and 
may  God  love  and  bless  you  all !  " 

The  sen^ice  ended  with  the  confirmation  hymn,  which  the 
children  sang  by  themselves.  Anna,  the  Governor,  and  the 
Factor  were  deeply  affected.  Ah !  the  sweet  and  happy  time 
of  childhood !  If  the  children  could  only  remain  children ! 
But  there  was  nothing  to  foretell  the  future — nothing  to 
be  seen  there  except  five  innocent  boys  and  girls  kneeling 
side  by  side,  with  their  faces  toward  the  altar — nothing  to 
be  heard  but  their  silvery  voices  floating  up  over  the  heads 
of  the  congregation  to  the  blue  roof  studded  with  stars. 


IV 

Soon  after  that  the  children  were  separated.  Helga  was 
the  first  to  go.  The  Factor  had  become  rich,  and  his  wife, 
who  had  only  been  waiting  until  she  could  claim  a  separate 
maintenance,  parted  from  her  husband  and  went  back  to 
Denmark,  taking  their  younger  daughter  with  her.  Helga, 
who  was  then  fifteen  years  of  age,  was  glad  to  go,  but  it 
was  a  condition  of  the  separation  that  at  twenty-one  she 
should  return  to  Iceland  if  her  father  wished  her  to  do  so, 
or  forfeit  all  interest  in  his  will. 

Little  Neils  Finsen  was  the  next  to  leave,  for  his  father 
had  married  again,  and  his  stepmother  had  persuaded  the 
Sheriff  that  the  boy  had  a  genius  for  the  violin,  and  ought 
to  be  sent  to  London. 

Oscar  remained  a  few  winters  longer,  trjdng  to  find  out  the 
profession  he  wished  to  follow,  and  deciding  sometimes  in 
favor  of  the  law,  sometimes  in  favor  of  the  church,  but 
generally  in  favor  of  music  (which  was  vetoed  by  everybody 
as  a  beggarly  business),  and  being  finally  despatched  to  the 
care  of  the  Governor's  college  friend  at  Oxford  as  a  first 
stage  toward  an  English  degree  and  the  pursuit  of  a  public 
career  in.  Iceland. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  17 

Thus  it  happened  that  within  four  years  of  their  confirma- 
tion only  two  of  the  five  children  were  left  at  home,  and  it 
had  come  to  pass  that  these  two — Magnus  and  Thora — were 
living  under  the  same  roof. 

Magnus  having  failed  at  the  Latin  School,  the  Rector  had 
concluded  that  it  would  be  waste  of  time  to  keep  him  there 
any  longer,  and  the  Governor  had  decided  to  send  him  to 
the  farm,  when  the  Factor  volunteered  to  take  him  as  an 
apprentice  in  his  business  and  to  receive  him  into  his  house. 

The  Factor's  house  was  greatly  changed  by  this  time,  the 
place  of  his  wife  being  taken  by  his  sister,  a  shrewd  little 
body  with  a  kindly  heart  but  a  sharp  tongue,  which  kept 
everybody  in  order  and  reduced  everything  to  rule.  Under 
Margret's  regime  Magnus  began  as  one  of  four  apprentices 
who  ate  at  the  same  table  with  the  master  and  his  family, 
but  saw  no  more  of  them  than  they  could  see  at  meals. 

He  found  it  difiicult  to  learn  his  master's  business.  It 
was  business  of  barter,  in  which  the  farmers  exchanged 
their  wool  for  foreign  products,  and  settlements  were  made 
on  paper.  Magniis  made  many  blunders  at  the  beginning, 
and  was  constantly  being  reproved.  As  time  went  on  he 
grew  to  be  big  and  powerful,  and  his  fellow-apprentices 
christened  him  "  Jumbo."  The  name  stuck,  and  he  was 
treated  as  a  dullard. 

Except  twice  a  day — at  dinner  and  at  supper — he  saw 
nothing  of  Thora  now.  Aunt  Margret  sent  her  to  the  Girls' 
High  School,  and  if  he  met  her  in  the  street,  coming  or  go- 
ing, she  would  drop  her  head  and  smile  and  then  run  away. 
Magnus  wanted  to  run  too,  and  always  in  an  opposite  direc- 
tion, for  the  secret  of  sex  had  begun  to  whisper  to  both  o2 
them. 

Once  a  month  in  winter  they  met  at  a  dancing  class  held 
at  the  Artisans'  Institute.  Why  Magnus  should  go  there, 
seeing  he  could  never  learn  to  dance,  was  a  mystery  to  every- 
body, until  one  night  the  truth  became  obvious  to  all,  and 
then  nobody  thought  him  a  dullard  any  longer  or  dared 
to  say  "  Jmnbo  "  beneath  his  breath. 

A  sprightly  young  sailor  named  Hans  Thomson,  lately 
home  from  a  voyage,  was  carrying  himself  with  extraordi- 
nary freedom.    He  was  quick-witted,  glib,  and  nimble,  and 


IS  THE    TRODIGAL    SON 

partly  for  his  merit  as  a  dancer,  but  mainly  for  the  glory 
of  having  "  sailed,"  he  was  attracting  the  eyes  of  the  girls. 
Seeing  tliis,  he  did  his  best  to  make  sport  for  them,  and 
when  other  ejQforts  had  been  exhausted  he  looked  out  for  a 
butt  for  his  ridicvde,  and  seized  upon  Magnus.  He  called 
him  "  Jumbo  "  several  times,  and  when  this  jibe  began  to 
fail  he  made  a  doggerel  chorus,  which  he  sung  to  a  grotesque 
caricature  of  Magnus's  elephantine  steps: 

"  Slowly  goes  tlie  cow  in  calf — 
Jog  along  and  do  not  laugh." 

The  laughter  came  in  peals,  yet  Magnus  did  not  speak, 
and  the  girls  thought  he  was  stupid.  Encouraged  by  his 
success  Hans  wagered  a  group  of  his  friends  that  he  would 
take  his  pick  of  all  the  girls  in  the  room,  and  to  prove  bis 
Word  he  strutted  up  to  Thora — who  was  reputed  to  be  the 
richest  heiress  in  Iceland — and  asked  her  to  dance  with  hinj. 
But  Thora,  who  had  flushed  up  at  the  previous  scene,  said 
quietly,  but  in  a  voice  tremulous  with  anger,  "  No,  thank 
you,"  and  turning  aside  she  danced  with  Magnus. 

Hans  was  at  first  speechless  with  amazement,  but  a  man 
has  to  be  hungry  to  eat  his  words  in  silence,  and  after  a 
moment  he  winked  to  his  friends  and  whispered  "  Wait." 

The  next  dance  was  a  cotillion,  and  in  the  fii-st  of  its 
figures  a  girl  had  to  sit  blindfold  on  a  chair  placed  at  one 
end  of  the  room  while  the  boys  raced  from  the  other  end  to 
capture  her.  The  one  to  reach  her  first  had  to  lead  her  to  the 
middle  of  the  floor  and  kiss  her — still  blindfold — and  then 
dance  her  round  the  room. 

Hans  whispered  to  the  leader,  Thora  was  chosen  for  the 
chair,  and  all  the  young  men  present — Magnus  excepted — 
ran  to  catch  her.  Of  course,  Hans  was  the  easy  victor,  and 
taking  possession  of  his  prize  he  led  her  to  the  appointed 
place,  and  then,  while  all  were  silent  and  everybody  waited 
to  see  what  he  would  do,  he  made  a  mock  obeisance  before 
her  blindfolded  face,  as  much  as  to  say  he  did  not  wish  to 
kiss  her,  and  left  her  where  she  stood. 

At  that  the  girls  began  to  giggle,  and  Thora,  feeling  that 
.  something  was  wrong,  xmcovered  her  eyes  and  found  herself 


THE   PRODIGAL    SON  19 

standing  alone,  and  the  sailor  in  his  seat.  Then  the  color 
rushed  to  her  eyes  again,  hut  thrice  redder  and  hotter  than 
before,  and,  covered  with  confusion,  she  crept  back  to  her 
place, 

A  moment  afterward  Hans  was  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor  kicking  his  heels  higher  than  a  short  man's  head,  when 
Magnus,  pale  as  a  ghost,  stepped  out  and  took  hold  of  him. 

"  You  must  dance  with  me  next,"  he  said,  and  the  sailor, 
feeling  the  grip  of  a  lion  about  his  waist,  cried,  half  in  ear- 
nest, half  in  jest: 

"  But  it's  no  use  dancing  with  a  bull.  Let  go  of  me,  will 
you?" 

"  JSTot  till  I  show  you  how  a  bull  would  dance  you,"  said 
Magnus,  and  before  any  one  could  know  what  was  about  to 
happen,  the  sailor  had  kicked  the  beam  of  the  ceiling,  filling 
the  room  with  dust,  and  fallen  with  a  crash  to  the  floor. 

Hans  never  went  to  sea  again,  and  the  Sheriff,  who  was  a 
life-long  rival  of  the  Governor,  fined  Magnus  a  hundred 
crowns,  after  reading  him  a  lecture  on  bad  passions  and  the 
duty  of  parents  to  check  them.  The  Factor  paid  the  money 
and  then  stopped  it,  ten  crowns  a  month  for  ten  months, 
out  of  Magnus's  salary.  The  salary  was  twenty  crowns  in 
all  at  that  time,  and  Magnus  took  the  other  ten  in  secret 
to  Hans  himself.  As  long  as  Hans  lived  in  Iceland  Magnus 
paid  him  ten  crowns  a  month,  whatever  his  own  earnings 
might  be.    Hans  became  a  water-carrier  and  a  drunkard. 


After  that  Aunt  Margret  invited  Magnus  to  8i)end  his 
evenings  with  her  and  Thora  instead  of  going  upstairs  with 
the  other  apprentices.  This  led  to  the  happiest  period  in  his 
life.  Thora  played  the  guitar,  while  Aunt  Margret  knitted 
interminable  stockings,  and  in  order  to  find  an  excuse  for 
his  presence,  Magnus  began  to  learn  the  flute.  He  had  no 
music  in  his  natvire,  but  he  continued  to  scream  and  puff 
through  his  instrument  like  an  express  train  through  a 
ventilated  tunneL    And  when  he  had  blown  himself  out  of 


20  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

breath,  Thora,  who  was  sweet  and  patient,  would  wait  while 
he  wiped  his  forehead. 

Those  intervals  in  the  hannony  were  always  the  dearest 
part  of  the  evenings  to  Magnus,  for  then  he  could  talk  to 
Thora.  The  big  silent  fellow  who  rarely  spoke  to  anybody 
else  would  sometimes  talk  to  her  with  a  force  and  eloquence 
which  made  Aunt  Margret's  closing  eyes  wink  and  open  wide. 
It  was  only  about  business,  what  he  had  done  to-day  or  was 
going  to  do  to-morrow,  but  his  face  would  light  up,  his  eyes 
would  flash,  his  tongue  would  flow,  and  he  would  become 
another  being. 

As  time  went  on  and  Magnus  passed  out  of  his  appren- 
ticeship, he  began  to  develop  great  schemes  and  ideas,  and 
he  always  tried  them  on  Thora  first.  The  barter  business 
would  go  to  the  dogs  some  day,  and  the  fortunes  of  the  future 
would  be  made  in  the  fishing.  He  was  the  richest  man  in 
the  world  whose  estate  was  in  the  sea,  and  if  Icelanders  had 
the  sense  to  see  where  their  wealth  was  waiting  for  them 
they  would  build  luggers  to  replace  their  open  boats,  and  buy 
quick  steamers  to  run  their  fish  to  England.  That  required 
money,  but  Parliament  ought  to  provide  it,  and  some  day — 
who  could  know  what  might  not  happen? — Magnus  himself 
would  enter  Althing,  and  tell  those  talking  automatons  what 
they  ought  to  do. 

The  Factor  heard  of  this  project  through  Aunt  Margret, 
and  he  was  much  impressed  by  its  foresight  and  practical 
wisdom.  One  day,  after  smoking  various  pipes  while  turn- 
ing the  leaves  of  his  ledger,  he  went  over  to  the  Governor 
and  said: 

"  Upon  my  soul,  Stephen,  that  son  of  yours  is  no  fool.  He 
has  notions,  and  if  he  had  capital  as  well,  I  don't  know  that 
something  mightn't  come  of  him.  But  broad  thighs  want 
broad  breeches,  and  the  question  is  what  are  we  going  to 
do?" 

"  Lend  the  lad  some  money,  and  give  him  a  chance,"  said 
the  Governor. 

"And  create  a  rival  to  crush  me?  No,  no!  Near  is  my 
shirt,  but  nearer  is  my  skin!  But  look  here,  old  friend — why 
shouldn't  Magnus  marry  Thora  ?  " 

"  Splendid  I    It  has  been  the  dream  of  my  life  to  cement 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  21 

our  friendship  in  the  second  generation  by  a  suill  closer 
bond." 

"  Let's  come  down  to  facts  and  figures,  then,  said  the 
Factor,  and  within  half  an  hour  the  marriage  of  Magnus 
and  Thora  was  a  settled  matter. 

Magnus  heard  of  it  from  the  Governor.  "  I'vo  been  talk- 
ing with  the  Factor  about  you,  Magnus,  and  A^e  think  it 
would  be  a  good  thing  if  you  and  Thora  made  g  match.  He 
will  make  you  his  partner  immediately,  and  in  Jfue  time  the 
heir  to  half  he  leaves  behind.     So  if  you  agree " 

"  But  Thora  ?  "  Magnus's  eyes  had  lit  up  wi  ..h  a  deep  glow 
of  delight.    "  Does  Thora  agree  ?  " 

"  I  must  leave  you  to  find  that  out  for  yr  irself ,"  said  the 
Governor. 

Thora  in  her  turn  heard  of  the  arrangement  from  Aunt 
Margret. 

"  Your  father  is  growing  old,  my  pr?  yious,  and  it's  time 
he  took  a  partner.  Pity  he  hasn't  a  son  for  a  place  like  that, 
but  the  next  best  thing  is  a  son-in-law  and  if  you  or  Helga 
would  mari-y  somebody  who  could  ca  ry  on  the  business — 
somebody  like  Magnus " 

"  But  Magnus  is  like  my  brother,   -  .unt  Margret." 

"  So  much  the  easier  to  make  Liim  your  husband,  my 
honey." 

"  But  surely  it's  necessary  to  lovo  one's  husband,  auntie." 

"  Certainly  it  is  necessary  to  Icve  him,  but  that's  easy 
enough  with  Magnus — such  an  old  friend,  and  so  devoted  to 
the  family." 

There  seemed  to  be  nothing  lef  except  that  Magnus  should 
speak  to  Thora  for  himself,  biu  that  was  a  task  of  graver 
difficulty.  The  great  creature  who  had  broken  the  back  of 
the  swaggering  bully  began  to  tremble  in  the  mere  presence 
of  the  soft-voiced  little  lady,  who  dropped  her  blue  eyes 
whenever  he  entered  the  room.  The  music  lasted  longer  of 
an  evening  now,  and  th'  intervals  were  fewer  and  more 
brief. 

But  one  day  Magnus,  who  had  been  to  Thingvellir  on  the 
business  of  the  sl^ep-gathering,  came  back  with  a  young 
pony  and  called  Thora  into  the  yard  of  her  father's  house 
to  look  at  it.     The  four-year-old  colt,  which  was  prancix*^; 


22  THE    TRODIGAL    SON 

about  for  sheer  joy  of  being  alive,  had  faultless  limbs,  a 
glossy  chestnut  coat,  and  a  silvery  mane  and  tail. 

"  Is  it  a  good  one  ?  "  said  Magnus. 

"  It's  a  beauty!  "  said  Thora.  "  It's  perfect!  It's  the  love- 
liest thing  that  ever  stepped  !    Whomever  does  it  belong  to  ?  " 

"  It  belongs  to  you,"  said  Magnus,  and  when  Thora  gave 
him  her  hand  to  thank  him  he  held  it  for  a  moment  while 
he  looked  into  her  face,  and  then  drew  her  to  his  side  and 
kissed  her. 

"  Is  it  to  be  so,  Thora  ? "  he  whispered,  and  from  some- 
where in  the  depths  of  his  breast  Thora  answered  "  Yes." 

The  world  was  going  romid  him  in  a  wild  dance  of  joy 
when  somebody  touched  him  on  the  shoulder.  It  was  the 
Factor,  who  had  seen  everything  from  the  house. 

"  That's  the  best  day's  work  you  ever  did  in  your  life, 
my  lad,  and  I'U  take  care  you  never  rue  it.  But  what's  this 
they  tell  me — that  you  are  Mountain-king  at  Thingvellir 
this  year  ? " 

"  That  is  so,"  said  Magnus. 

"  Well,  well,  I'm  willing !  Take  ten  days  at  your  sheep- 
gathering,  and  while  you  are  away  I'll  have  the  contract 
written  out  and  ready.  Then  we'll  sign  it  the  day  after  you 
come  back,  and  the  wedding  can  be  when  you  please." 

Thora  and  Magnus  went  into  the  house  hand  in  hand  like 
children,  and  Avmt  Margret,  who  had  been  crying  behind 
the  kitchen  door,  fell  on  them  and  kissed  them.  Magnus 
thought  he  had  never  been  so  happy  in  his  life,  and  though 
the  sun  had  set  it  shone  for  him  all  night  long.  Next  day 
he  went  back  to  Thingvellir,  and  scarcely  two  hours  after  he 
had  gone  word  ran  through  the  town  that  the  steamer  Laura 
had  arrived  in  the  fioi*d,  and  his  brother  Oscar  had  returned 
in  her. 

VI 

Oscar  Stephenson  carried  everything  before  him.  Dur- 
ing the  six  years  of  his  absence  in  England  he  had  grown  as 
straight  as  a  poplar  and  as  handsome  as  a  young  god.  Both 
his  dress  and  his  manners  seemed  faultless  in  Iceland  eyes, 
and  each  had  a  touch  of  individuality  that  was  irresistible. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  23 

His  spirits  were  as  buoyant  and  boyish  as  before,  and  his 
gaiety  captivated  everybody. 

It  counted  for  nothing  that  his  career  abroad  had  been 
something  like  a  failure;  that  his  infirmities  of  character 
had  followed  him;  that  his  father  had  forbidden  him  to  re- 
turn before  in  order  to  fix  him  at  his  studies;  that  he  had 
left  Oxford,  nevertheless,  without  taking  his  degree,  and 
that,  removing  to  London  at  his  own  earnest  entreaty,  he 
had  hitherto  done  nothing  at  the  Academy  of  Music.  He 
could  and  he  would  was  all  that  anybody  thought  of  this; 
and  when  he  once  began  he  would  take  the  world  by  storm. 

On  landing  from  the  steamer  he  ran  up  the  street  as  light 
of  foot  as  a  reindeer,  shouting  salutations  on  every  side, 
plunged  into  Government  House,  hugged  his  mother  at  in- 
tervals for  five  minutes,  spoke  so  fast  that  she  could  not 
follow  him,  dashed  into  the  Governor's  bureau,  kissed  his 
father  just  as  he  used  to  do  when  he  was  a  boy,  talked  for 
ten  minutes,  explained  that  he  had  not  written  to  say  that 
he  was  coming  because  he  wanted  to  take  everybody  un- 
awares ;  then  said,  "  Now  I  must  slip  off  to  see  my  god- 
father," and  vanished  like  a  shaft  of  April  sunshine,  leaving 
the  air  of  the  room  tingling  like  a  candelabra,  and  the  old 
people  smiling  into  each  other's  faces  with  delighted  surprise. 

"  Well !  Oscar  was  always  a  master  of  surprise,"  said  the 
Governor,  and  he  took  up  his  hat  and  followed  him. 

When  Oscar  reached  the  Factor's  house,  he  came  first  upon 
Aunt  Margret,  and  throwing  his  arms  about  her  neck  he 
held  her  so  long  that  to  recover  her  breath  and  to  save  her 
ringlets  she  had  to  beat  him  off  with  her  fists.  And  then 
there  stood  Thora  in  her  laced  bodice  and  turned  down  collar, 
her  hufa  and  tassel,  and  plaited  hair,  looking  sideways  out  of 
her  soft,  blue  eyes,  and  smiling  with  her  rows  of  pure  white 
teeth.  He  thought  she  was  a  picture  of  charming  simplicity, 
and  took  both  her  hands  in  both  of  his,  and  so  they  stood  for 
some  moments,  while  she  grew  redder  and  redder  every  in- 
stant, and  tried  to  get  away. 

"  Can  it  be  possible  ? "  he  said.  "  And  this  is  Thora ! 
When  we  were  children  she  used  to  kiss  me,  but  now " 

"  ISTow  she's  going  to  be  married,  Oscar.  Haven't  you 
heard  the  news  ?    Thora  is  to  be  married  to  Magnus." 


24  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  Then  she  belongs  to  the  family,  and  I  may  kiss  her  in 
any  case,"  said  Oscar. 

Thora  escaped  at  last,  and  then  the  Factor  came  in,  and 
Oscar  had  to  turn  round  and  round  like  a  tee-totum,  that 
his  godfather  might  see  what  changes  the  world  had  made  in 
him.  He  laughed  and  laughed  again,  inquiring  about  the 
business  and  the  crops,  and  then  tramped  about  the  house 
asking  what  had  become  of  this  piece  of  furniture  and  what 
they  had  done  with  that. 

"  Everything  seems  to  speak  to  me,"  he  said,  "  and  in  my 
den  at  Oxford  I  used  to  hear  that  old  Bornholme  clock  tick- 
ing away  as  plainly  as  I  hear  it  now." 

Then  the  Governor  arrived,  and  Anna  followed  him,  and 
while  the  old  men  smoked  and  Aunt  Margret  did  the  hon- 
ors, Oscar  poured  out  the  foreign  news  in  a  stream  of  gal- 
loping words,  and  then  asked  what  was  going  on  at  home. 
They  told  him  of  Magnus's  ideas  and  schemes,  but  he  did 
not  approve  them. 

"  Iceland  will  be  Iceland  no  longer  if  you  turn  it  into  a 
little  America,"  he  said.  "  It  is  the  country  of  song  and 
story,  of  fire,  frost,  volcano,  glacier,  and  of  patriarchal  meth- 
ods of  government  and  trade." 

"  Oscar  is  right,"  said  the  Factor.  "  Keep  up  the  old  order, 
I  say." 

And  when  Oscar  had  shot  away  like  a  meteor,  the  Factor 
said,  "  That  young  fellow  has  made  me  feel  fifteen  years 
younger.  I  must  keep  an  eye  on  Magnus,  though.  He  is  no 
fool,  but  he  can't  reach  with  his  hands  where  Oscar  has  his 
feet.    Oscar's  a  boy !  " 

"  He's  a  darling,"  said  Aunt  Margret,  straightening  her 
ringlets. 

Thora  hardly  knew  what  she  thought  of  him,  except  that 
he  had  left  her  very  unhappy.  When  she  went  to  bed  that 
night  she  could  not  help  comparing  Magnus  unfavorably 
with  his  brother — recalling  little  things  like  his  hands  and 
his  nails  and  the  discolored  patches  on  his  cheeks  when  he 
neglected  to  shave. 

Next  day  Oscar  distributed  the  presents  he  had  brought 
from  England — a  brooch  for  Anna  containing  a  place  for 
his  own  portrait,  a  pin  for  Aunt  Margret,  a  silver  belt  for 


THE    TKODIGAL    SON  25 

Thora,  and  something  for  nearly  everybody.  His  unsel- 
fishness was  a  subject  of  general  eulogy,  and  nobody  re- 
membered for  the  moment  that  the  Governor  had  paid  for 
everything. 

In  the  afternoon  he  came  again  to  the  Factor's,  and  talked 
for  an  hour  to  Thora  and  Aunt  Margret  about  London  and 
the  glory  of  its  sights  and  scenes.  "  You  must  see  them  for 
yourself  some  day,  Thora,"  he  said.  "  But  then  I  suppose 
old  Magnus  will  never  leave  Iceland  whatever  happens." 

Thora  was  more  unhappy  than  ever  when  she  went  to  bed 
that  second  night,  thinking  what  a  difference  it  made  in  a 
man  if  he  had  "  sailed,"  and  what  a  wondrous  life  the  girl 
must  live  who  was  to  marry  Oscar.  She  was  looking  at  her 
new  belt  in  the  glass,  and  standing  off  from  it  to  admire  her 
glorified  waist  when  Silvertop  winnied  in  the  stable,  and 
then  she  felt  a  little  ashamed. 

Oscar  came  the  next  day  also,  and.  Aunt  Margret  being 
out  on  an  errand  of  charity,  he  sat  with  Thora  alone  until  it 
was  quite  dark,  telling  of  the  plays  he  had  seen  in  England. 
There  was  a  good  deal  about  love  in  them,  and  one  was  of 
a  girl  beloved  by  two  brothers.  Her  father  had  married  her 
to  the  elder  brother  while  she  was  still  a  child,  but  as  soon 
as  her  heart  awoke  she  loved  the  younger  one,  and  her  hus- 
band killed  both  of  them,  Thora  cried  for  the  two  children 
who  tried  to  be  true,  but  could  not,  and  she  dreamt  that 
night  that  she  was  Francesca,  and  Oscar  was  Paolo,  and 
Magnus  was  Giovanni.  The  dream  was  painful,  but  the 
awakening  was  more  painful  still. 

Oscar  came  the  next  day  also,  and  then  he  played  a 
number  of  songs  he  had  composed  on  subjects  in  the  Sagas. 
Thora  thought  she  had  never  heard  such  playing;  and  do 
what  she  would  she  could  not  help  laughing  a  little  at  the 
thought  of  Magnus's  performances  on  the  flute.  "  I'm  sure 
he'll  become  a  great  composer,"  she  said  when  Oscar  had 
gone. 

"  Perhaps  so,  but  no  one  can  feed  on  honor,"  said  Aunt 
Margret. 

By  this  time  Thora  had  begun  to  look  for  Oscar  every 
day,  and  the  next  time  he  came  he  persuaded  her  to  fetch 
out  her  guitar.  She  played  some  Iceland  love  songs,  and 
3 


26  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

sang  them  in  a  sweet  voice.  Thora  was  like  a  flower  that  had 
grown  under  the  snow,  and  was  opening  its  eyes  to  the  sun. 

"I  wonder  whom  Oscar  will  marry?"  she  said,  and  Aunt 
Margret  answered : 

"  Some  English  miss  with  plenty  of  this  world's  goods  and 
none  of  the  next."  And  then  Thora  felt  a  tingling  paiu  in 
her  breast. 

One  day  there  came  a  note  from  Oscar,  saying,  "  Glorious 
morning!  What  do  you  say  to  a  few  hours  on  the  fiord? 
Will  call  for  you  immediately." 

They  took  a  boat  belonging  to  the  Factor  and  turned  her 
head  toward  Engey,  an  island  inhabited  by  ten  thousand 
eider  duck.  Both  were  rowing  Avhen  they  left  the  jetty  and 
the  water  foamed  under  their  oars,  but  as  soon  as  they  were 
out  of  sight  and  hearing  they  dipped  softly  and  drifted. 
The  sea  and  sky  were  blue  and  quiet,  like  two  mirrors  face 
to  face,  each  reflecting  the  other,  and  with  the  boat  like  a 
great  bumble  bee  humming  between. 

Oscar  was  like  a  boy.  He  laughed  and  talked  continually, 
telling  stories  of  what  they  used  to  do  when  they  were  chil- 
dren. He  was  not  very'  chivalrous  then,  he  remembered, 
but  when  she  pleaded  pitifully  he  used  to  allow  her  to  sit  on 
his  sledge  and  they  went  cracking  and  crashing  through  the 
crisp  snow.  They  had  tiffs,  too,  in  those  days,  and  people 
used  to  say,  "  Children  who  make  a  quarrel  often  live  to 
make  a  match."    Wise  folks,  were  they  not  ? 

They  landed  on  Engey  and  rambled  about  in  search  of  the 
eider  duck,  but  all  the  birds  were  gone,  and  there  was  noth- 
ing left  in  their  empty  nests  but  a  few  discolored  eggs,  and 
these  were  addled. 

"  We've  come  too  late,"  said  Oscar.  "  Haven't  we  come 
here  too  late,  Thora  ? "  he  said  again,  stooping  to  look  side- 
ways into  her  face.  And  then  Thora,  who  had  been  hum- 
ming a  tune,  suddenly  flushed  as  red  as  fire.  Their  eyes 
were  sparkling,  and  they  were  quivering  with  excitement. 

"  How  I  wish  we  could  be  children  again !  "  said  Oscar. 
"Don't  you,  Thora?" 

Before  she  was  aware  Thora  answered  "Yes,"  and  then, 
becoming  embarrassed,  she  turned  back  toward  the  boat. 
The  groimd  was  scored  with  narrow  nits  which  had  been 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  27 

riven  out  of  the  grass  by  the  frosts  of  winter,  and  Oscar 
said: 

"  We  can't  both  walk  in  one  rut,  you  know." 

"  You  can  catch  me,  then,"  said  Thora,  and  she  ran  away 
laughing. 

Oscar  ran  after  her  and  caught  her  and  held  her  by  the 
belt,  and  then  she  became  serious.  After  a  moment  she 
covered  her  face  and  began  to  cry. 

"  Have  I  hurt  you  ?  "  asked  Oscar. 

"  No,  no !  It's  nothing.  I'm  silly !  Catch  me  again !  "  said 
Thora,  and  snatching  his  cap  off  his  head  she  flew  over  the 
ruts  and  had  leapt  back  into  the  boat  before  he  came  up 
with  her. 

When  they  returned  to  the  Factor's,  Aunt  Margret,  who 
looked  cool  and  thoughtful,  gave  Oscar  a  letter  which  his 
mother  had  left  for  him.    It  was  from  Magnus,  and  it  ran : — 

"  Dear  Oscar : — I  am  glad  to  hear  you  have  come  home,  and 
I  wish  I  had  been  there  to  welcome  you.  You  come  in  a  good 
hour,  for  you  must  have  heard  of  my  good  fortune  about 
Thora.  It  was  long  before  I  could  bring  myself  to  grasp  my 
happiness,  because  she  was  such  a  happy  little  girl,  and  it 
seemed  selfish  to  take  her  from  her  father's  house  and  every- 
body there  so  fond  of  her.  But  now  that  I  have  got  her  I 
feel  new  strength  and  am  doing  the  work  of  three.  I  am  so 
happy  that  nothing  goes  wrong  with  me,  and  I  am  like  the 
anvil  that  could  not  be  made  angry  though  it  were  to  have 
the  heaviest  blow.  But  I  am  longing  to  see  you,  and  I  write 
to  ask  if  you  will  come  to  the  sheep-gathering  and  bring 
Thora  with  you.  Now  I  must  conclude,  for  we  are  camping 
in  the  mountains  and  it  will  take  this  letter  all  its  work  to 
reach  you  in  time. — Your  affectionate  brother,  Magnus 
Stephenson." 

Oscar  read  the  letter  aloud,  and  when  he  had  finished  it 
Thora  could  not  see  him  distinctly  for  the  vapor  which 
floated  before  her  eyes — like  the  chilling  thaw-cloud  that 
comes  down  the  valley  on  a  bright  winter's  day  and  hides 
the  shining  fells.  But  after  a  moment  Oscar  laughed — a 
little  nervously — and  said : 

"Let  us  go  by  all  means.  I'll  have  Silvertop  ready  and 
bring  him  round  at  five  in  the  morning." 


28  THE    PKODIGAL    SON 


vn 

Next  day  Magnus  awoke  on  the  mountains  in  the  paling 
light  of  the  moon  and  the  early  glimmering  of  the  dawn, 
and  thought  of  Thora.  He  always  thought  of  Thora  first  on 
waking  in  the  morning,  and  her  face  was  the  last  he  saw  at 
night  when  he  closed  his  eyes  under  the  stars.  Seven  days 
before,  when  he  had  set  his  face  toward  the  fells,  with  his 
forty  shepherds  and  eighty  ponies,  he  had  found  it  hard  to 
turn  his  back  on  the  lowlands,  because  Thora  was  there. 
But  when  by  daybreak  the  following  morning  they  reached 
the  ridge  of  the  mountains  which  divides  the  north  district 
from  the  south;  and  in  the  grey  light  and  the  i-unning  mist 
they  met  the  shepherds  who  had  come  up  from  the  other  side, 
and  hailed  and  saluted  them,  and  exchanged  snuflf  and  drank 
healths  with  them,  and  then  turned  about  and  parted,  and 
begun  to  descend  the  way  they  came,  his  spirits  rose  rapidly, 
because  every  step  was  taking  him  back  to  Thora. 

Five  days  thereafter  Magnus  and  his  men  scoured  the 
mountains,  gathering  up  the  sheep  that  had  strayed  during 
the  summer;  and  every  night  when  they  pitched  their  tents 
in  some  sheltered  place  where  there  was  water  and  grass 
among  the  lava  and  screes,  and  eveiy  morning  when  they 
rose  at  the  first  glimpse  of  daylight,  he  told  himself  he  was 
one  day  and  one  night  nearer  to  Thora. 

When  he  was  midway  down  some  one  had  brought  him 
news  of  Oscar's  return  to  Iceland,  and  after  he  had  written 
his  letter  and  despatched  it,  he  was  happy  in  the  prospect  of 
seeing  his  young  brother  after  a  long  separation,  but  happier 
still  in  the  thought  of  seeing  Thora  one  day  sooner  than  he 
had  expected,  because  Oscar  would  bring  her  to  meet  him. 

And  now  it  was  the  last  day  of  his  duty,  and  as  he  and  his 
shepherds  came  down  the  mountains,  driving  five  thousand 
head  of  sheep  before  them,  and  the  men  began  to  talk  of 
their  wives  and  sweethearts,  he  thought  surely  nobody  had 
ever  loved  anybody  as  he  loved  Thora,  because  there  was  only 
one  Thora  in  the  world. 

The  morning  was  bright  and  calm,  and  there  was  no  sound 
in  the  clear  air  except  the  bleating  of  sheep,  the  barking  of 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  29 

dogs,  and  the  voices  of  shepherds  calling  to  each  other  as 
they  raced  across  the  fells  to  keep  their  flocks  together,  but 
Magnus  felt  as  if  everything  on  earth  and  in  heaven  were 
talking  to  him  of  Thora. 

He  began  to  think  of  how  they  should  meet,  and  he  found 
it  delightful  to  imagine  what  would  happen.  Oscar  would 
say,  "  Have  I  brought  her  safely,  Magnus  ?  "  And  then  with 
one  arm  about  Thora  he  would  give  his  other  hand  to  young 
Oscar  and  thank  him  for  taking  such  good  care  of  the  sweet 
ffirl  who  was  more  to  him  than  his  own  soul. 

At  eight  o'clock  they  came  in  sight  of  the  sheep-fold  they 
were  going  to,  lying  in  the  valley  like  an  inverted  honey- 
comb, and  then  Magnus  persuaded  himself  he  could  see 
through  his  field-glass  a  line  of  people  like  a  train  of  ants 
coming  over  the  plain  beyond.  He  could  hardly  contain 
himself  at  the  thought  that  Thora  must  be  among  them; 
and  when,  an  hour  afterward,  he  could  plainly  distinguish 
two  riders  galloping  ahead,  he  was  happy  in  the  certainty 
that  these  were  Oscar  and  Thora,  and  that  they  were  hurry- 
ing to  meet  him. 

By  ten  o'clock  Magnus  and  his  company  had  reached  the 
sheep-fold,  and  there  the  farmers  of  the  district  were  gath- 
ered to  greet  them,  with  snuff  and  health-drinking  as  before, 
but  above  the  joy  of  that  meeting  was  the  delight  of  seeing 
a  long  cavalcade  of  the  townspeople,  who  had  come  to  make 
holiday,  and  were  riding  rapidly  up  the  valley. 

Half  an  hour  later  Magnus  saw  Oscar  and  Thora  on  the 
outside  of  the  sheep-fold,  but  at  that  moment  he  was  knee- 
deep  in  a  palpitating  and  bleating  sea  of  sheep,  and  he  could 
only  wave  his  hand  and  try  to  shout  his  salutations.  He 
found  he  could  not  shout,  for  something  had  gripped  him. 
by  the  throat;  but  Oscar  called  to  him,  and  he  thought, 
"  What  a  man  he  is  now,  and  what  a  grown-up  voice  he  has 
got!"_ 

During  the  next  three  hours  Magnus  was  kept  busy,  sep- 
arating the  sheep,  and  settling  disputes  among  the  farmers ; 
but  as  he  worked  he  saw  the  townspeople  pitch  their  tents 
and  light  fires  to  boil  their  kettles.  "  Thora  is  there,"  he 
thought,  and  he  was  content. 

By  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  last  of  the  sheep  had 


30  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

been  separated ;  the  shepherds  were  driving  away  their  flocks 
in  different  directions;  the  bleating,  barking,  and  shouting 
were  dying  off  in  the  distance,  and  then  Magnus — soiled, 
sunburnt  and  unshaven — turned  his  face  toward  the  tents. 

The  townspeople  had  finished  eating;  their  fires  were 
smouldering  out  in  the  sunshine,  and  they  were  dancing  to 
a  guitar  on  a  level  piece  of  green,  when  Magnus  went  up  to 
them  and  asked  for  Oscar,  but  looked  for  Thora.  Somebody 
told  him  they  had  gone — gone  for  a  walk  somewhere — and 
Magnus  was  glad,  because  they  could  meet  where  they  would 
be  more  alone. 

He  shaded  his  eyes  and  looked  down  the  valley,  and  think- 
ing he  saw  two  figures  at  the  foot  of  the  hills,  he  leapt  on  the 
back  of  a  pony  that  was  grazing  near,  and  rode  off  in  that 
direction.    He  was  humming  a  tune,  for  he  was  very  happy. 

After  some  minutes  he  was  sure  he  saw  Oscar  and  Thora, 
and  began  to  call  to  them. 

"  Helloa !  "  he  cried,  but  there  came  no  answer. 

"  Helloa ! "  he  cried  again,  but  still  there  was  no  reply, 
and  all  was  silent  now  save  for  the  tinkling  of  the  guitar  be- 
hind him. 

"  Helloa !  Helloa !  Helloa !  "  but  nothing  came  back  to 
him  but  his  own  voice  as  it  echoed  in  the  hills. 

Oscar  and  Thora  were  sitting  on  the  sunny  side  of  a  rock 
which  rose  out  of  the  foot  of  the  mountain  like  a  mound  of 
black  soil,  but  was  really  the  mouth  of  an  extinct  volcano. 
Magnus  thought  he  knew  what  they  were  doing — they  were 
dropping  stones  down  the  crater  and  listening  for  the  sound 
of  their  descent.  That  was  why  they  had  not  heard  him, 
although  he  had  called  so  loud.  Very  well,  he  knew  what 
he  would  do,  he  would  play  a  practical  joke  upon  them;  he 
would  take  them  by  surprise ;  he  would  creep  up  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  rock  and  suddenly  appear  before  them  as  if 
he  had  risen  out  of  the  pit. 

With  this  intention  Magnus  made  a  circuit  of  the  crater, 
and  drew  up  on  the  shady  side  of  it.  He  was  then  very  close 
to  the  two  who  were  sitting  above,  but  still  they  did  not 
hear  him,  so  slipping  from  the  saddle  and  throwing  the  reins 
over  the  pony's  head  he  stole  up  softly  and  began  to  climb 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  31 

the  rock  as  quietly  as  he  could  in  his  big  boots  over  the 
rolling  stones.  The  greater  difficulty  was  to  keep  himself 
from  laughing  aloud  at  the  thought  of  what  their  faces 
would  be  like  when  he  stood  up  between  them  like  a  ghost 
that  had  spning  out  of  the  earth. 

Scrambling  on  hands  and  knees  Magnus  had  climbed  half 
way  up  the  rock  when  he  heard  Oscar  speaking,  and  he 
stopped  to  listen. 

"  But  why  did  you  consent  ?  "  said  Oscar's  voice. 

Thora  did  not  answer,  and  after  a  moment  the  voice  of 
Oscar  said  again,  "  "Why  did  you,  Thora  ?  " 

There  was  a  low  murmur  of  indistinguishable  words,  and 
then  the  voice  of  Oscar  said,  "  Because  your  father  wished  it  ? 
But  surely  you  have  to  live  your  own  life,  Thora.  However 
obedient  a  daughter  should  be  to  her  father,  she  is  a  separate 
being,  and  the  time  comes  when  she  has  to  fly  with  her  own 
wings,  as  we  say.    Then,  why  did  you  consent  ?  " 

Magnus  felt  his  fingers  tighten  their  hold  on  the  rock  he 
was  clinging  to,  and  he  leaned  forward  to  catch  Thora's 
reply.  But  there  was  only  the  same  low  murmur  of  indis- 
tinguishable words,  and  then  Oscar's  voice  once  more, 

"  Magnus  ?  No  doubt !  I  wouldn't  say  a  word  against 
Magnus — God  forbid  ! — but  love — mutual  love — is  the  only 
basis  of  a  true  marriage,  and  if  you  do  not  love  Magnus — 
not  really  and  truly,  as  you  say — why  did  you  consent  to 
marry  him  ? " 

Magnus  felt  the  ground  to  be  reeling  under  his  knees. 
If  he  had  not  been  clinging  to  the  rock  he  must  have  rolled  to 
the  foot  of  it.  All  his  soul  seemed  to  listen,  but  he  could  hear 
nothing  except  the  sound  of  Thora's  voice  breaking  with  sobs. 

Then  came  Oscar's  voice  again,  but  lower  and  tenderer 
than  before,  "  How  hateful  of  me  to  make  you  cry,  Thora ! 
I  didn't  intend  to  do  that,  dear.  But  have  you  never  asked 
yourself  what  will  happen  if  you  marry  Magnus,  and  then 
find  out  when  it  is  too  late  that  you  like  somebody  else?  " 

At  that  there  came  another  note  into  Thora's  weep- 
ing, a  note  of  joy  as  well  as  sorrow,  and  Magnus — though  he 
did  not  know  it — clambered  higher  up  the  rock. 

"  What  did  you  say,  Thora  ?  Tell  me,  dear,  tell  me — did 
you  say  you  had  fo\md  out  already  ?  " 


32  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

And  then  at  last  came  Thora's  voice  in  a  burst  of  passion- 
ate tears,  "  You  know  I  have,  Oscar,"  and  after  that  there 
was  a  startled  cry. 

Thora  had  risen  and  was  moving  toward  Oscar,  who  was 
already  on  his  feet  and  holding  out  his  arms  to  her,  when 
behind  him  she  saw  Magnus  with  a  terrible  face — eyes  star- 
ir»g,  lips  parted,  and  breath  coming  and  going  in  gusts.  Os- 
car turned  to  see  what  it  was  that  Thora  looked  at  and, 
seeing  Magnus,  his  whole  body  seemed  to  shrink  in  an  in- 
stant, and  he  felt  like  a  little  man. 

"  Is  it — you — really  ?  "  he  faltered,  and  he  smiled  a  sickly 
amile,  but  Magnus  neither  saw  nor  heard  him. 

Magnus  heard  nothing,  saw  nothing,  and  knew  nothing  at 
that  first  moment  except  that  he,  a  man  of  awful  strength 
and  passion,  was  standing  at  the  mouth  of  a  pit  as  deep  as 
hell  and  as  silent  as  the  grave,  with  two  who  had  been  dearer 
to  him  than  any  others  in  the  world,  and  they  had  deceived 
and  betrayed  him.  But  at  the  next  moment  he  saw  a  look 
in  Thora's  face  that  made  him  remember  Hans,  the  sailor, 
for  it  was  the  same  look  that  he  had  seen  there  the  instant 
after  he  had  thrown  the  man  on  his  back,  and  then  a  ghostly 
hand  seemed  to  touch  him  on  the  shoulder  and  the  fearful 
impulse  passed. 

There  was  silence  for  some  moments,  in  which  nothing 
■was  heard  but  the  quick  breathing  of  the  three,  and  then 
Magnus  found  his  voice — a  choking  utterance — and  he  fell 
on  Thora  with  loud  reproaches. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  he  said.  "  It  is  only  six  days 
since  I  parted  from  you,  and  now  I  find  you  like  this !  Speak ! 
Can't  you  speak  ?  " 

But  Thora  could  only  gasp  and  moan;  and  Oscar,  who 
had  struggled  to  recover  himself,  stepped  out  to  defend  her. 
"It's  not  Thora's  fault,  Magnus.  It's  mine,  if  it  is  any- 
body's, and  if  you  have  anything  to  say  you  must  speak  to 
me." 

"  You !  "  cried  Magnus,  wheeling  round  on  him.  "  What 
are  you,  I'd  like  to  know?  A  man  who  betrays  his  own 
brother !  Is  that  what  you  came  home  to  do — to  make  mis- 
chief and  strife  and  break  up  everything?  In  the  name  of 
God  why  didn't  you  stay  where  you  came  from? " 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  35 

"  Magnus,"  said  Oscar,  trying  to  hold  himself  in,  "  you 
must  not  speak  to  me  like  that.  You  must  not  talk  as  if  T 
had  stolen  Thora's  affections  away  from  you,  because " 

"Then  what  have  you  done?  If  you  haven't  done  that, 
■what  have  you  done?" 

"  Because  Thora  never  loved  you — never — though  I  am 
sori-y  to  say  it — very  sorry " 

"  Damn  your  sorry !  "  said  Magnus. 

"  And  damn  your  insolence !  "  cried  Oscar.  "  And  if  you 
won't  hear  the  truth  in  sorrow,  then  hear  it  in  scorn — Thora's 
engagement  to  you  is  nothing  but  a  miserable  commercial 
bargain  between  her  father  and  our  father  by  which  she 
has  been  bought  and  sold  like  a  slave." 

The  blow  went  home ;  Magnus  felt  the  truth  of  it ;  he  tried 
to  speak,  and  at  first  he  could  not  do  so ;  at  length  he  stam- 
mered : 

"  I  know  nothing  about  that.  I  only  know  that  I  was  to 
marry  Thora,  and  that  in  two  days'  time  we  were  to  be  be- 
trothed." 

Then  Thora  said  nervously,  with  quivering  lips  and  voice, 
"It  wasn't  altogether  my  fault,  Magnus — you  know  it  was 
not.  It  was  all  done  by  other  people,  and  I  had  noth- 
ing to  say  in  the  matter.  I  was  never  asked — never  con- 
sulted." 

"  But  I  asked  you  myself,  Thora." 

"  That  was  when  everything  had  been  settled  and  ar- 
ranged, Magnus." 

"  But  if  you  had  told  me  even  then,  Thora — if  you  had 
told  me  that  you  did  not  wish  it — that  you  could  not  care 
for  me " 

"  I  didn't  know  at  that  time,  Magnus." 

"You  didn't  know,  Thora?" 

"  I  didn't  know  that  the  love  I  felt  for  you  was  not  the 
right  love — that  there  was  another  kind  of  love  altogether, 
and  that  before  a  girl  should  bind  herself  to  any  one  for  bet- 
ter or  worse  until  death  parts  them,  she  ought  to  love  him 
with  all  her  heart  and  soul  and  strength." 

"  And  do  you  know  that  kind  of  love  now,  Thora  ? "  asked 
Magnus,  and  Thora  faltered,  "  Yes." 

That  word  was  like  a  death-knell  to  Magnus.     He  stared 


34  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

blankly  before  him  and  muttered  beneath  his  breath,  "My 
God !  My  God !  "  and  then  Thora  broke  down  utterly. 

No  one  spoke  for  some  moments.  Magnus  was  going 
through  a  terrible  struggle.  He  was  telling  himself  that,  after 
all,  these  two  had  something  to  say  for  themselves.  They 
had  their  eixcuse,  their  justification.  They  loved  each  other, 
and  perhaps  they  could  not  avoid  doing  what  they  had  done, 
while  he — he  who  had  thought  himself  the  injured  person — 
was  really  the  one  who  was  in  the  way. 

When  Thora's  weeping  ceased,  Magnus  looked  up  and  said, 
in  a  voice  that  was  pitifully  hoarse  and  husky, 

"  So  it's  all  over,  it  seems,  and  there's  no  help  for  it  ?  " 

No  one  spoke,  and  Magnus  said  again,  "  Well,  a  man's 
heart  does  not  break,  I  suppose,  so  I  daresay  I  shall  get 
over  it." 

Still  the  others  said  nothing,  and  Magnus  looked  from 
Oscar  to  Thora  and  said,  quite  simply,  "  But  what  is  to  be 
done  ?  If  it  is  all  over  between  Thora  and  me,  what  is  to  be 
done  now  ? " 

Neither  of  them  answered  him,  so  he  turned  to  Thora  and 
said,  "  Your  father  was  to  have  the  contract  ready  by  the 
time  of  our  return — can  you  ask  him  to  destroy  it  ?  " 

She  did  not  reply.  "  You  can't — I  know  you  can't — your 
father  would  never  forgive  you — never." 

Then  he  turned  to  Oscar :  "  The  Governor  has  plans  about 
the  partnership — can  you  fulfil  them  if  I  should  fail  ? — No  ? 
Is  it  impossible  ?  " 

Oscar  gave  no  sign,  and  after  a  moment  Magnus  said, 
*'  Then  I  must  be  the  fii-st  to  move,  I  suppose.  But  per- 
haps that  is  only  right,  since  I  am  the  one  who  has  to  get 
out  of  the  way." 

"  Don't  say  that,  Magnus,"  cried  Thora. 

"  Why  not  ?    Better  a  sour  truth  than  a  sweet  lie,  Thora." 

Thora  dropped  her  eyes;  Oscar  turned  aside;  they  heard 
Magnus's  foot  on  the  stones  as  if  he  were  moving  away, 
but  they  dared  not  look  lest  they  should  see  his  face.  After 
a  moment  he  stopped  and  spoke  again: 

"  When  I  was  coming  down  the  mountain  I  thought  we 
might  go  home  together — all  three  together — but  perhaps 
•we  had  better  not.    Besides,  if  I  have  to  move  first  in  that 


THE    TRODIGAL    SON  35 

matter.  I  have  my  work  cut  out  for  me,  and  I  must  be  alone 
to  think  of  it." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ? "  asked  Oscar. 

"  God  knows !  "  said  Magnus.  "  He  has  got  us  into  a  knot. 
He  must  get  us  out  of  it." 

They  heard  his  heavy  boots  on  the  sliding  stones  as  he 
stepped  down  the  rock;  they  heard  him  speak  cheerfully  to 
his  pony  as  he  swnmg  to  the  saddle ;  they  heard  the  crack  of 
his  long  reins  as  he  slashed  them  above  the  pony's  head,  and 
then — as  well  as  they  could  for  the  tears  that  were  blinding 
them — they  saw  him  bent  double  and  flying  across  the  plain. 


vin 

Early  next  day  Magnus  called  at  Government  House  and 
went  up  to  Oscar's  room.  He  found  Oscar  sitting  at  a  desk 
with  a  pen  in  his  hand,  a  blank  sheet  of  paper  before  him, 
and  sundry  torn  scraps  lying  about,  as  if  he  had  been  trying 
in  vain  to  write  a  letter.  The  brothers  greeted  each  other 
with  constraint,  and  during  the  greater  part  of  their  in- 
terview neither  of  them  looked  into  the  other's  face. 

"  I  have  come  to  tell  you,"  said  Magnus,  sitting  by  the 
side  of  the  desk  and  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  carpet  at  his  feet, 
*'  I  have  come  to  tell  you  that  I  see  a  way — I  think  I  see 
a  way  out  of  our  difficulty." 

"  What  is  it  ? "  asked  Oscar,  looking  steadfastly  at  the 
blank  sheet  of  paper  before  him. 

"  It  is  a  plan  which  does  not  involve  Thora  at  all,  or  in 
any  way  reflect  upon  you,  therefore  you  need  not  ask  me 
what  it  is.  I  expect  to  try  it  to-morrow,  and  if  it  succeeds 
the  consequences  will  be  mine — mine  only — and  nobody  else 
will  be  blamed  or  affected." 

Oscar  bowed  his  head  over  the  blank  sheet  of  paper  and 
said  nothing. 

"  But  before  I  take  the  step  I  am  thinking  of,  I  want  to 
be  sure  it  will  be  worth  taking,  and  have  the  results  I  ex- 
pect. That's  why  I  am  here  now — I  am  here  to  ask  you 
^^rtain  questions." 


36  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  What  are  they  ?  "  said  Oscar. 

"  They  are  very  intimate  and  personal  questions,  but  I 
think  I  have  a  right  to  ask  them,  seeing  what  I  intend  to 
do,"  said  Magnus,  and  then,  in  a  firmer  voice,  "  and  a  right 
to  have  them  answered,  also." 

"  Ask  them,"  said  Oscar. 

"  I  want  to  know,  first,  whether,  if  I  can  liberate  Thora 
from  her  promise  to  me,  you  will  marry  her  ? " 

"  Indeed,  yes — if  she  will  have  me — yes !  " 

"  You  said  yesterday,  you  remember,  that  love — mutual 
love — was  the  only  basis  of  a  true  marriage.  Perhaps  I  forgot 
that  in  my  own  case,  but  I  must  not  forget  it  now.  So  it 
is  not  sufficient  that  Thora  should  love  you;  it  is  necessary 
that  you  should  love  Thora — you  do  love  her  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  do." 

"  Your  attachment  is  a  brief  one — are  you  sure  it  is  not 
a  passing  fancy  ?  " 

"  Quite  sure." 

"  It  is  a  solemn  thing  that  two  human  beings  should  bind 
themselves  together,  as  Thora  said,  for  better  or  worse,  until 
death  parts  them — you  are  not  afraid  of  that  ? " 

"  No." 

"  You  will  always  love  her  ?  " 

"  Always,"  said  Oscar. 

"  You  have  counted  the  cost,  all  the  consequences  ?  " 

"  I  know  nothing  of  costs  and  consequences,  Magnus.  I 
only  know  that  I  love  Thora  with  all  my  heart  and  soul,  and 
that  if  you  will  liberate  her,  and  she  will  consent  to  marry 
me,  I  will  consecrate  my  whole  life  to  make  her  happy." 

Magnus  shifted  in  his  seat,  cleared  his  throat,  and  began 
again. 

"  Thora  is  a  sweet,  good  girl,"  he  said,  "  the  best  and 
sweetest  girl  in  the  world,  but  she  is  a  simple  Iceland  maiden 
who  has  never  been  out  of  her  own  country.  She  is  not  like 
you,  and  if  you  take  her  to  England  she  will  not  be  like  your 
friends  there.  Have  you  thought  of  that  ?  Are  you  ready  to 
make  allowances  for  her  upbringing  and  education?  Will 
your  love  bear  all  the  strain  of  such  a  marriage  ?  " 

It  was  now  Oscar's  turn  to  move  restlessly  in  his  seat. 
*'  Why  should  you  ask  me  a  question  like  that,  Magnus  ? " 


THE    TRODIGAL    SON  37 

"  Will  it  ?  "  repeated  Magnus  more  firmly. 

"  I  certainly  think  it  will." 

"  But  will  it  ?  "  said  Magnus  still  more  firmly. 

"It  will,"  said  Oscar. 

There  was  a  short  pause  and  then  Magnus  said  quietly: 

"  There  are  two  or  three  other  questions  I  wish  to  ask  of 
you,  and  I  ask  them  for  your  sake  as  much  as  Thora's." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Oscar. 

"  Thora  is  practically  her  father's  only  daughter  now, 
and  he  is  old  and  very  fond  of  her.  If  he  should  wish  her 
to  remain  in  Iceland  after  her  marriage,  you  would  be  will- 
ing to  live  here  for  the  rest  of  your  life  ?  " 

"  If  he  made  it  a  condition — yes." 

"  Naturally  the  Governor  has  certain  plans  for  you,  having 
spent  so  much  on  your  education,  and  you  have  your  own 
aims  and  ambitions  also,  but  if  these  should  clash  with  your 
love  for  Thora,  if  they  should  tempt  you  away  from  her, 
you  would  be  ready  to  give  them  up  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  would." 

"  You  are  sure  of  that  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it — that  is  to  say — it  would  be  hard,  no 
doubt — to  abandon  the  aims  and  ambitions  of  one's  whole 
life — but  if  they  ever  clashed,  as  you  say,  with  my  love  for 
Thora,  ever  tempted  me  away  from  her — tempted  me  to 
leave  her  to  go  to  England  for  example " 

"  Or  to  any  other  country,  or  any  other  woman  ?  " 

"  That  is  not  possible,  Magnus." 

"  But  if  it  were  possible  ?  " 

"  I  would  not  go,"  said  Oscar. 

"  So  that  if  I  give  Thora  up  and  she  consents  to  marry 
you,  nothing  and  nobody  will  be  allowed  to  disturb  her  happi- 
ness ? " 

"Nothing  and  nobody,"  said  Oscar. 

"  Then  write  that,"  said  Magnus,  tapping  the  paper  on 
the  desk. 

"Write  it?" 

"  To  her,  not  to  me.  If  you  are  sure  of  all  this,  you  cannot 
be  afraid  to  put  it  in  black  and  white." 

"  I'm  not  afraid,  but  it's  of  no  use  writing  it  to  Thora." 

"Why  not?" 


38  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  Because  when  you  left  us  yesterday  she  told  me  that, 
though  her  heart  was  mine,  she  had  given  her  word  to  you, 
and  she  wovJd  be  compelled  to  keep  it." 

"She  told  you  that?" 

"  She  did." 

Magnus  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then  said  in  the 
husky  voice  of  yesterday,  "  Write  it,  nevertheless,  and  let 
me  take  the  letter," 

"  You  mean  that,  Magnus  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  That  you  will  give  her  back  her  word,  and  speak  to 
her  for  me  ?  " 

"  Write  your  letter,"  said  Magnus  huskily. 

"  What  a  good  fellow  you  are !  You  make  me  feel  as  if 
I  had  behaved  odiously  and  wish  to  heaven  I  had  never 
come  back  from  England.  I  cannot  wish  that,  though,  for 
Thora's  love  is  everything  on  earth  to  me  now,  and  I  would 
do  anything  to  hold  on  to  it.  But  if  I  have  done  wrong  to 
you  I  know  of  no  better  way  of  expressing  my  regret  than 
by  placing  my  dearest  interests  in  your  hands,  I  will  write 
the  letter  at  once,  Magnus.  I  tried  to  write  it  twenty 
times  and  couldn't,  but  now  I  can,  and  I  will." 

While  Oscar's  pen  flew  over  the  blank  sheet  of  paper 
Magnus  sat  with  head  down,  digging  at  the  pattern  in  the 
carpet.  A  fierce  fight  was  going  on  in  his  heart  even  yet, 
for  the  devil  seemed  to  be  whispering  in  his  ear,  "  What 
are  you  doing?  Didn't  you  hear  what  he  said — that  Thora 
had  decided  to  keep  her  word  to  you  ?  Are  you  going  to  per- 
suade her  not  to  do  so  ?    You'll  never  get  over  it — never !  " 

When  Oscar  had  finished  his  letter  he  gave  it  to  Magnus 
and  said :  "  Here  it  is.  I  think  it  says  all  we  talked  about, 
if  less  than  a  fraction  of  what  I  feel.  She'll  listen  to  you, 
though,  I  feel  sure  of  that;  but  if  she  does  not — if  she 
sends  me  the  same  answer " 

"  What  will  you  do  then  ? "  asked  Magnus,  pausing  at  the 
door. 

"  Then  I  will  take  the  first  steamer  back  to  England,  and 
ask  you  to  say  nothing  to  anybody  of  what  has  happened." 

A  bright  light  came  into  Magnus's  face,  and  then  slowly 
died  away. 


THE   PRODIGAL    SON  39 

"But  T  cannot  think  of  that  yet,  Map:nus;  not  till  I  hear 
the  result  of  your  errand.  See  her,  speak  to  her,  tell  her 
she  is  not  responsible  for  her  father's  contract;  beg  of  her 
not  to  ruin  her  own  life  and  mine.    Will  you  ?  " 

"  I  will." 

"  God  bless  you,  old  fellow !  You  are  the  best  brother  a 
man  ever  had.  Don't  be  too  long  away.  I  shall  hardly  live 
until  you  return.  Put  me  out  of  suspense  as  quickly  as  you 
can,  Magnus.  If  you  only  knew  how  awfully  I  love  the  little 
girl  and  how  much  her  answer  means  to  me " 

But  Magnus's  tortured  face  had  disappeared  behind  the 
door. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  stairs  his  mother  met  him,  and  she 
said :  "  So  you've  been  up  with  Oscar  all  the  time !  Your 
father  and  the  Factor  were  looking  for  you  everywhere. 
They  had  the  lawyers  with  them  all  the  morning,  and  wanted 
to  consult  you  about  something.  It's  settled  now,  I  think, 
60  there's  no  need  to  trouble.  But,  goodness  gracious,  Mag- 
nus, how  white  and  worn  you  look!  That  work  on  the 
mountains  hasn't  suited  you,  and  you  must  do  no  more 
of  it." 

Magnus  excused  himself  to  Anna  and  hastened  away  to 
the  Factor's.  As  he  passed  through  the  streets  with  Oscar's 
letter  to  Thora  in  his  side  pocket,  and  his  nervous  fingers 
clutching  it,  the  devilish  voice  that  had  tempted  him  before 
seemed  to  speak  to  him  again  and  say :  "  Destroy  it !  Didn't 
you  hear  him  say  that  he  would  go  away  ?  Let  him  go !  No- 
body but  yourself  will  know  anything  about  the  letter !  Even 
Thora  will  never  know !  And  when  Oscar  is  gone,  Thora  will 
fulfil  her  promise  to  you !  Let  her  fulfil  it !  If  she  does  not 
love  you  now,  she  will  come  to  love  you  later  on.  And  if  she 
never  comes  to  love  you,  she  will  be  yours ;  you  will  have  her, 
and  who  has  a  better  right  ?    Destroy  it !    Destroy  it !  " 

But  his  good  angel  seemed  to  answer  and  say: 

"  "What's  the  use  of  having  a  woman's  body  if  you  cannot 
have  her  soul?  That's  lust,  not  love;  and  it's  too  late  to 
think  of  it  anyway.  The  question  you  have  to  decide  is 
simple  enough — do  you  love  yourself  better  than  you  love 
Thora,  or  Thora  better  than  yourself  ?  " 

And  then  the  devil  seemed  to  whisper  again  and  say. 


40  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

■*'  What  a  fool's  errand  you  are  going  upon !  If  you  win  you 
lose ;  if  you  lose  you  win.  If  you  persuade  Thora  to  preserve 
Tier  own  happiness  you  destroy  your  own!  If  you  do  not 
persuade  her  to  marry  Oscar  she  will  maiTy  you !  Are  you 
a  man  ?    Is  there  an  ounce  of  hot  blood  in  you  ?  " 

The  fight  was  fierce,  but  Magnus  decided  in  favor  of  the 
girl's  happiness  against  his  own,  and  he  said  to  himself  at 
every  step,  "  Go  on ;  you  want  Thora  to  be  happy,  then  carry 
it  through ;  it  is  hard,  but  go  on ;  go  on !  " 

When  he  reached  the  Factor's  his  great  Hmbs  could  hardly 
support  themselves  and  his  ashen  face  was  covered  with 
sweat. 

IX 

The  Factor's  house  was  full  of  the  sweet  smell  of  the  bak- 
ing of  cakes,  and  Thora  and  Aunt  Margret  were  in  the 
kitchen  with  the  fronts  of  their  gowns  tucked  up  to  their 
waists,  their  sleeves  turned  back,  and  rolling-pins  in  their 
hands,  behind  a  table  laden  with  soft  dough  and  sprinkled 
with  flour. 

"  Here's  Magnus  at  last !  "  said  Aunt  Margret,  "  and  per- 
haps he  can  tell  me  how  it  happened  that  you  came  home 
without  him  yesterday." 

Magnus  did  his  best  to  laugh  it  off.  "  That's  a  long  story, 
auntie,"  he  said.  "  A  horse's  shoe  isn't  made  at  a  blow,  and 
I  want  to  speak  to  Thora." 

"  Mind  you  don't  keep  her  long,  then.  If  we're  to  be  ready 
for  all  the  people  who  are  coming  to-morrow  there's  work 
here  to-day  for  a  baker's  dozen." 

Magnus  went  up  to  the  little  sitting-room  with  the  Barn- 
holme  clock  in  it,  and  Thora  followed.  There  were  dark 
rings  under  her  eyes,  and  her  manner  was  nei'vous  and  rest- 
less. 

"  I  am  ashamed  of  what  happened  yesterday,"  she  said, 
"  and  I  ask  you  to  forgive  and  forget." 

"  I  cannot  do  either,"  said  Magnus,  "  that  is  to  say,  not 
yet,  and  in  the  way  you  mean." 

Thora's  eyes  began  to  fill.  "  Don't  be  too  hard  on  me, 
Magnus.    I'm  trying  to  make  amends,  and  it  isn't  very  easy." 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  41 

"I'm  not  so  hard  on  you  as  you  are  on  yourself,  Thora, 
and  I'm  here  to  tell  you  not  to  do  yourself  an  injustice." 

Thora  thought  for  a  moment,  and  then  said,  "If  you 
mean  that  you  have  come  to  say  that  after  all  I  must  fulfil 
my  promise,  it  is  unnecessary,  because  I  intend  to  do  so." 

"  Will  that  be  right,  Thora?  " 

"  It  may  not  be  right  to  Oscar,  perhaps,  or  to  myself " 

"  I'm  not  thinking  about  Oscar  now,  and  I'm  not  think- 
ing about  you — I'm  thinking  about  myself — will  it  be  right 
tome?" 

"What  more  can  I  do,  Magnus?  It  wasn't  altogether 
my  fault  that  I  gave  you  my  word,  but  I  did  give  it,  and  I 
am  tiying  to  keep  it." 

"  Would  it  be  right  to  marry  me — seeing,  as  you  said  your- 
self, you  do  not  care  for  me  ? " 

Thora  dropped  her  head. 

"  You  said  yesterday  that  before  a  girl  should  marry  a 
man  she  ought  to  love  him  with  all  her  heart  and  soul  and 
strength.  Wouldn't  it  be  wrong  to  marry  me  while  you 
loved  somebody  else  like  that  ?  Is  that  what  you  call  maJiing 
amends,  Thora  ? " 

"  I  was  only  trying  to  do  what  was  right,  Magnus ;  but  if 
you  think  it  would  be  wrong  to  marry  you,  then  I  will  never 
marry  at  all.    Never !  " 

"  What  good  will  that  be  to  me,  Thora  ?  Five  years,  ten 
years,  twenty  years  hence,  what  good  will  it  be  to  me  that 
because  you  had  given  me  your  word,  and  could  not  keep  it, 
you  are  living  a  lonely  life  somewhere  ?  " 

Thora  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

"  What  sort  of  a  poor  whisp  of  a  man  do  you  suppose  I 
am,  Thora?" 

"I  didn't  intend  to  insult  you,  Magnus.  But  if  I  can 
neither  marry  you  nor  remain  unmarried,  what  am  I  to  do  ?  " 

"  You  know  quite  well  what  you  are  to  do,  Thora." 

Thora  uncovered  her  face;  her  eyes  were  shining. 

"You  mean  that  I  must  marry  Oscar?" 

"  That  depends  upon  whether  you  love  him." 

The  shining  eyes  were  very  bi'ight  in  spite  of  the  tears 
that  swam  in  them. 

"Do  you  love  him?" 
4 


42  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  Don't  ask  me  that,  Magnus." 

"  But  I  do  ask  you,  Thora.  I  have  a  right  to  ask  you. 
Do  you  love  Oscar?" 

"  I  admire  and  esteem  him,  Magnus." 

"  But  do  you  love  him  ?  " 

"  Everybody  loves   Oscar." 

"Do  you  love  him,  Thora?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Thora  softly,  and  for  some  moments  after  that 
there  was  no  sound  in  the  room  but  the  ticking  of  the  clock. 

"  Then,  as  he  loves  you,  and  wishes  to  marry  you,  it  is  your 
duty  to  marry  him,"  said  Magnus, 

"  But  I  have  given  my  word  to  you,  Magnus." 

"  I  give  you  back  your  word,  Thora." 

The  shining  eyes  were  shedding  tears  of  joy  by  this  time, 
but  while  love  fought  for  Oscar,  duty  and  honor  struggled 
for  Magnus. 

"  But  I  have  told  him  it  is  impossible,"  said  Thora. 

"He  asks  you  again,  Thora.  Here  is  his  letter,"  said 
Magnus. 

"  He  gave  it  to  you  to  deliver  ? " 

"  I  asked  for  it." 

"  And  you  came  to  speak  for  him  ?  " 

"  I  came  for  myself  as  well." 

"  How  good  you  are  to  me,  Magnus !  " 

"  Bead  your  letter,"  said  Magnus,  and  with  trembling 
hands  Thora  opened  the  envelope. 

The  fight  was  short  but  fierce.  Magnus  watched  every  ex- 
pression of  Thora's  face.  If  there  had  been  one  ray  of  love 
for  him  in  her  looks  of  gratitude  and  remorse  he  would  have 
clung  to  the  hope  that  the  time  would  come  when  all  would 
be  well ;  but  love  for  Oscar  shone  in  her  eyes,  broke  from  her 
lips,  betrayed  itself  in  the  very  insistence  with  which  she 
meant  to  marry  Magnus,  and  there  remained  no  hope  for 
him  anywhere. 

Thora  looked  up  from  her  letter,  and  said : 

"  How  splendid !  How  noble !  That's  what  I  do  call 
brotherly!  Oscar  tells  me  that  you  think  you  can  put  the 
contract  aside  without  involving  me  or  reflecting  upon  him. 
You  are  too  good — too  generous — too  forgiving — how  can  X 
thank  you  ?  " 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  43 

**  By  giving  me  Oscar's  letter,"  said  Magnus. 

*'  What  do  you  want  witli  it  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  have  it  in  my  pocket  when  I  do  my  work  to- 
morrow. That's  only  fair — that  while  I  am  doing  my  part 
I  hold  Oscar's  written  assurance  that  he  intends  to  do  his." 

"  You  wouldn't  produce  it  to  Oscar's  injury  ?  " 

"  Many  a  man  sharpens  his  axe  who  never  uses  it,"  said 
Magnus. 

Thora  returned  the  letter  to  Magnus,  and  he  put  it  back 
in  his  pocket. 

"  Now  you  must  answer  it,"  said  Magnus. 

"  Not  yet,  not  immediately,"  said  Thora. 

"  Immediately,"  said  Magnus,  and  taking  pen  and  paper 
from  a  sideboard,  he  put  them  before  her. 

The  power  of  the  man  mastered  her,  and  she  sat  at  the 
table  and  took  up  the  pen. 

"  But  why  should  I  write  to-day  ?  "  she  said.  "  Why  not 
to-morrow  ?  " 

"  To-morrow  is  the  day  fixed  for  the  betrothal,  and  if  I  am 
to  do  anything  then  I  must  have  everything  in  black  and 
white." 

"  But  let  me  have  one  engagement  ended  before  the  other 
is  begun,  Magnus." 

"  If  Oscar  does  not  receive  your  answer  within  an  hour 
he  will  take  the  first  ship  back  to  England,  and  you  will  never 
see  him  again." 

"  He  said  so  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  will  break  my  heart,  Magnus.  I  don't  know  what  to 
say  to  you." 

"Write,"  said  Magnus. 

"  I  cannot.    You  have  driven  everything  out  of  my  head." 

"  Then  write  to  my  dictation :    '  My  dear  Oscar ' " 

« '  My  dear  Oscar ' " 


" '  I  have  received  the  letter  you  sent  by  Magnus  ' " 

" '  Sent  by  Magnus  ' " 

" '  And  I  reciprocate  all  you  say ' " 

«  '  All  you  say ' " 

"  *  I  believe  you  love  me  very  dearly,  and  that  you  will 
never  allow  anything  or  anybody  to  come  between  us ' " 


44  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 


" '  To  come  between  us 


"  *  Magnus  has  given  me  back  my  word  because  I  do  not 
love  him ' " 

"  Must  I  say  that,  Magnus  ?  " 

"  '  And  because  he  wishes  to  make  me  happy  ' " 

"  I  cannot,  Magnus,  I  really  cannot " 

"  Go  on,  Thora.  *  Therefore,  if  he  can  satisfy  my  father 
and  yours  ' " 

"  '  My  father  and  yours  ' " 

•' '  I  will  marry  you  when  and  where  you  please,  be- 
cause ' " 

"  '  Because  ' " 

"  *  Because  I  love  you  with  all  my  heart  and  soul  and 
strength.' " 

Thora  was  crying  when  she  came  to  the  end  of  the  letter. 

"  Sign  it,"  said  Magnus,  and  she  signed  it. 

"  Address  it,"  he  said,  and  she  addressed  it. 

"  Seal  it,"  he  said,  and  she  sealed  it. 

"  Now  give  it  to  me,"  said  Magnus,  and  he  took  the  letter 
off  the  table  and  put  it  in  his  breast  pocket. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it  ? "  asked  Thora. 

"  Deliver  it  myself,"  said  Magnus. 

"  No,  no !  "  cried  Thora.  "  At  least  let  me  keep  it  for 
half  an  hour — a  quarter  of  an  hour," 

"  I  cannot  trust  you,  Thora,"  said  Magnus,  and  he  made 
for  the  door. 

"  Give  it  me  back !    Give  it  me !     Give  it  me !  " 

She  threw  her  arms  about  him  to  detain  him,  and  for  a 
moment  he  stood  trembling  in  the  temptation  of  her  embrace. 
Then  he  put  her  gently  aside  and  fled  out  of  the  house. 

While  he  was  hurrying  through  the  streets  the  warmth  of 
Thora's  soft  flesh  was  still  tingling  on  his  neck  and  cheek, 
and  the  devilish  voice  was  saying  in  his  ear,  "  ^Vhat  a  fool 
you  were!  In  another  moment  her  sweet  body  would  have 
been  in  your  strong  arms  and  she  would  have  been  yours 
for  ever." 

He  tried  not  to  hear  it,  but  the  voice  went  on :  "  She  may 
still  be  yours  if  you're  half  a  man !  Keep  back  Thora's  letter 
and  return  his  own  to  Oscar !  Why  not  ?  What  better  does 
he  deserve  of  you  ? " 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  45 

Magnus  walked  fast,  but  the  voice  followed  him.  It  told 
him  how  happy  he  had  been  when  he  thought  Thora  loved 
him;  how  he  had  left  her  for  the  mountains  with  his  heart 
full  of  joy;  how  Oscar  had  come  and  everything  was  at  an 
end. 

"  Keep  it  back !  Return  his  own !  "  said  the  voice  in  his 
ear ;  and  to  make  sure  of  Thora's  happiness  and  to  cure  him- 
self of  all  hope,  he  took  Thora's  letter  out  of  his  pocket  and 
ran  with  it  in  his  hand. 

Oscar  was  at  the  top  of  the  stairs,  being  too  eager  to  wait 
in  his  bedroom.  "  So  you  have  brought  it !  She  has  sent  me 
an  answer !     Give  it  me !  " 

"  Take  it,"  said  Magnus. 

But  having  Thora's  letter  in  his  hands  at  last  Oscar  was 
afraid  to  open  it.     "  Is  it  all  right  ? "  he  asked. 

"  See  for  yourself,"  said  Magnus,  and  he  dropped  into  the 
seat  by  the  desk. 

As  Oscar  read  the  letter  the  expression  of  his  face  changed 
from  fear  to  joy,  and  from  joy  to  rapture.  Without  looking 
up  from  the  paper  he  cried  out  like  a  happy  boy,  "  It's  all 
right !  She  agrees !  God  bless  her !  Shall  I  read  you  what 
she  says?  Yet,  no!  That  wouldn't  be  fair  to  Thora!  But 
it's  as  right  as  can  be !  How  beautiful !  Talk  of  education — 
nobody  in  the  world  could  have  put  things  better!  The 
darling !  " 

He  read  the  letter  twice  and  put  it  in  his  pocket ;  then  took 
it  out  and  read  it  again  and  kissed  it,  forgetting  in  his  selfish 
happiness  that  anybody  else  was  there. 

Magnus  sat  and  watched  him.  The  fight  was  almost  over, 
but  he  was  nearly  breaking  down  at  last. 

"  What  an  age  you  seemed  to  be  away !  "  said  Oscar.  "  Yet 
you  have  run  hard,  for  you  are  still  quite  breathless.  But 
there  is  nothing  more  to  do  now  except  what  you  promised  to 
do  to-morrow.    You  think  you  can  do  it  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  can,"  said  Magnus. 

"  It  will  be  a  stiff  job,  though.  To  persuade  two  old  men 
who  don't  wish  to  be  persuaded!  Nobody  wants  to  see  his 
schemes  upset  and  his  contracts  broken,  and  with  all  the 
good-will  in  the  world  to  me " 

"  Wait !  "   said  Magnus,    rising — his   unshaven   face   had 


46  THE    PKODIGAL    SON 

suddenly  grown  hard  and  ugly.  "  We  have  talked  of  you  and 
Thora,  and  of  the  Factor  and  the  Governor,  but  there  is 
somebody  who  has  not  been  too  much  mentioned — myself !  " 

"  Don't  suppose  I  am  forgetting  you,  though,"  said  Oscar. 
"  I  can  never  do  that — and  neither  can  Thora — never !  " 

"  If  I  am  to  stand  back,  and  take  the  consequences,  there 
is  something  you  owe  me — you  owe  me  your  silence !  " 

"Assuredly,"  said  Oscar. 

"  Whatever  I  do  or  say  to-morrow,"  said  Magnus,  "  you 
must  never  allow  it  to  be  seen  that  you  know  my  object.  Is 
it  a  promise  ?  " 

"  Certainly !  "  said  Oscar.  "  Silence  is  inevitable  if  I  am 
to  save  Thora  from  her  father's  anger,  and  I  will  save  her 
from  that  and  from  every  sorrow." 

Magnus  walked  to  the  door,  and  then,  for  the  first  time, 
Oscar  looked  at  him. 

"  But  what  a  brute  I  am — always  talking  of  myself ! " 
said  Oscar,  following  his  brother  to  the  landing.  "  When 
everything  is  satisfactorily  settled,  what  is  to  happen  to  you, 
Magnus  ? " 

"  God  knows !  "  said  Magnus,  with  his  foot  on  the  stair. 
"  Everybody  has  his  own  wounds  to  bandage." 

"  Well,  God  bless  you  in  any  case,  old  fellow !  "  said  Oscar, 
patting  Magnus  on  the  shoulder.  And  then  he  returned  to 
his  room  and  took  out  Thora's  letter  and  read  it  over  again. 


The  betrothal  was  fixed  for  five  o'clock  on  the  following 
afternoon.  Aunt  Margret  had  had  women  in  to  clean  the 
house  down,  and  everything  was  like  a  new  pin.  The  large 
sitting-room,  looking  toward  the  town,  was  prepared  for  the 
legal  part  of  the  ceremony,  with  pens  and  ink  on  the  round 
table,  and  the  smaller  sitting-room,  divided  from  it  by  a 
plush  curtain  and  overlooking  the  lake,  was  laid  out  with  a 
long  dining  table,  covered  with  cakes  and  cups  and  saucers 
and  surrounded  by  high-backed  chairs. 

These  rooms  were  standing  quiet  and  solemn  when  at  half- 


THE    PKODIGAL    SON  47 

past  four  Aunt  Margret  came  down  in  her  best  black  silk 
and  with  ringlets  newly  curled,  to  have  a  last  look  round. 
She  was  doing  a  little  final  dusting  when  the  first  of  her 
guests  arrived.  This  was  Anna,  also  in  black  silk,  and,  being 
already  on  her  company  manners.  Aunt  Margret  kissed  her. 

"  But  where's  Oscar,  and  where's  the  Governor  ? "  asked 
Aunt  Margret. 

"  Stephen  is  coming,"  said  Anna,  "  but  far  be  it  from 
me  to  say  where  Oscar  is!  The  boy  is  here  and  there  and 
everywhere." 

"  That  reminds  me  of  something,"  said  Aunt  Margret. 
"  Can  you  tell  me  how  it  came  to  pass  that  the  young  folks 
missed  each  other  at  Thingvellir  yesterday,  and  Magnus 
came  home  alone  ?  " 

"  Goodness  knows !  It  wouldn't  be  Magnus's  fault,  that's 
certain.  Magnus  is  like  my  poor  father — as  sure  to  be  in  his 
place  as  a  mill-horse  on  the  tread,  but  Oscar  is  as  hard  to 
hold  as  a  puff  of  wind.  It's  his  nature,  he  can't  help  it,  but 
it  makes  me  anxious  when  I  think  of  it,  Margret." 

"  Don't  be  afraid  for  Oscar,  Anna !  He'll  come  out  all 
right.  And  if  he  is  restless  and  unsettled,  God  is  good  to 
such,  weak  heart.  He  never  asks  more  than  He  gives,  you 
know." 

The  Factor  came  downstairs — a  tall  man,  clean-shaven, 
bald-headed,  and  a  little  hard  and  angular,  wearing  evening 
dress  and  a  skull-cap,  and  carrying  a  long  German  pipe  in 
his  hand. 

"Ko  smoking  yet!"  cried  Aunt  Margret,  and  with  a 
grunt  and  a  laugh  the  Factor  laid  his  pipe  on  the  mantel- 
piece. 

"  And  how's  Anna  to-day  ? "  he  said.  "  No  need  to  ask 
that  though,  our  Anna  is  as  fresh  and  young  as  ever.  Upon 
my  word,  Margret,  it  only  seems  like  yesterday  that  we  were 
doing  all  this  for  Anna  herself." 

"  She  was  a  different  Anna  in  those  days,  Oscar,"  said 
Anna. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it !  There's  a  little  more  Anna  now — that's 
the  only  difference." 

The  Governor  came  in  next — a  broad-set  man  of  medium 
height,  with  a  beard  but  no  mustache,  and  wearing  his  offi- 


48  THE    TRODIGAL    SON 

cial  uniform,  bright  with  gold  braid.  He  saluted  the  Factor 
and  said: 

"  I  have  taken  the  liberty  to  ask  the  Bishop,  the  Rector 
of  the  Latin  School,  and  the  Sheriff  to  join  us — I  trust  you 
don't  object? " 

"  Quite  right,  old  friend,"  said  the  Factor.  "  The  most 
important  acts  of  life  ought  always  to  be  done  in  the  pres- 
ence of  witnesses." 

"  And  how's  Margret  ?  As  busy  as  usual,  I  see !  All 
days  don't  come  on  the  same  date ;  we  must  get  ready  for  you 
next,  you  know !  " 

"  For  Margret !  "  laughed  the  Factor.  "  She'll  have  to  be 
quick,  or  she'll  be  late  then — people  don't  hatch  many  chick- 
ens at  Christmas." 

"  Late,  indeed !  "  said  Aunt  Margret,  with  a  toss  of  her 
ringlets.  "  If  I  couldn't  catch  up  to  you  folks  with  your 
pair  of  chicks  apiece,  I  shouldn't  think  it  worth  while  to 
begin." 

The  men  laughed,  and  Anna  said,  "Well,  two  children 
would  be  enough  for  me  if  I  could  only  keep  them.  But 
that's  the  worst  of  having  boys — they  marry  and  leave  you. 
A  mother  can  always  keep  her  girls " 

"  Until  somebody  else's  boys  come  and  carry  them  off,  and 
then  she  sees  no  more  of  either,"  said  Aunt  Margret. 

"  That  depends  on  circumstances,"  said  the  Governor — 
"  the  marriage  contract,  for  example — eh,  old  friend  ?  " 

"  Exactly !  "  said  the  Factor.  "  You  can  generally  keep 
the  bull  about  the  place  if  you  have  the  cow  locked  up  in 
the  cow-house." 

The  men  laughed  again,  and  then  the  Bishop  and  the 
Rector  arrived — the  Bishop  a  saintly  patriarch  with  a  soft 
face  and  a  white  beard,  and  the  Rector — as  became  the 
schoolmaster — sharper,  if  not  more  severe, 

"  I  was  surprised  when  I  heard  it  was  Magnus,"  said  the 
Rector.  "  Oscar  has  beaten  his  brother  in  most  things,  and 
I  thought  he  would  beat  him  in  getting  a  wife.  And  then 
Thora  and  he  are  such  friends,  too,  and  so  like  each 
other !  " 

"  They  get  on  worst  together  who  are  most  like  each  other,'" 
said  Anna;  and  Aimt  Margret  said: 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  49 

"  Stuff !  A  dark  man's  a  jewel  in  a  fair  woman's  eye,  and 
what  does  Thora  want  with  a  fair  one  ?  " 

"  But  where  is  Thora  ? "  asked  the  Bishop. 

"  She's  dressing,"  said  Aunt  Margret.  "  Let  us  go  and 
fetch  her  down,  Anna,"  and  the  two  women  went  up-stairs. 

"  Magnus  ought  to  be  here,  too,"  said  the  Governor. 
"  Where  is  he,  I  wonder  ?  " 

"  Were  you  asking  for  Magnus  ? "  said  a  voice  from  the 
hall.  It  was  the  Sheriff — a  small  man  with  a  sly  face,  wear- 
ing a  gold-braided  uniform  like  the  Governor's. 

"He's  at  the  warehouse,  isn't  he?  Or  is  he  still  at  the 
jetty  ?  "  asked  the  Factor. 

"  No,"  said  the  Sheriff  entering.  "  To  tell  you  the  truth, 
when  I  passed  the  hotel  he  was  sitting  in  the  smoking- 
room." 

"  The  smoking-room  of  the  hotel  ?  "  said  the  Governor. 

The  Factor  laughed.  "  Treating  his  friends  in  advance 
of  the  event,  I  suppose !  It's  bad  to  let  the  sledge  go  ahead 
of  the  horse,  though." 

"  No,"  said  the  Sheriff  again.  "  To  tell  you  the  truth,  he 
was  quite  alone." 

"  Drinking  ?  "  asked  the  Governor. 

"  Nonsense,  Stephen !  Magnus  does  not  drink,"  said  the 
Factor. 

"  I  hope  not,  but  I'm  always  afraid  of  it.  His  grandfather 
on  the  maternal  side,  you  know " 

"  Ah,  nobody  knows  what  is  inside  another's  coat,"  said 
the  Bishop.  "  Anna's  father  had  some  trouble  in  his  head — 
must  have  had." 

"  Even  diseases  are  inherited,"  said  the  Governor. 

"  But  the  old  man  drank  after  he  buried  his  wife,  not  be- 
fore he  married  her,"  said  the  Rector. 

And  then  Aunt  Margret  and  Anna  returned  to  the  room 
Baying,  "  Here  she  is  at  last !  "  bringing  Thora  in  her  simple 
velvet  costume  called  the  kirtle,  with  silver  belt,  bell  sleeves, 
and  white  lace  about  the  neck. 

The  Governor  took  Thora  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her. 
**  But  how  pale,  my  child !  "  he  said. 

"  You  may  well  say  so.  Governor,"  said  Aunt  Margret. 
"  She  has  been  crying  since  early  morning." 


50  THE    mODIGAL    SON 

"  Crying  ? "  said  the  Factor.  "  Now,  I  never  can  tmder- 
stand  why  a  woman  must  always  cry  when  she  is  going  to 
be  married;  it's  such  a  bad  compliment  to  her  husband." 

"  But  I  agree  with  Thora,"  said  the  Governor.  "  If  ever 
there  is  a  time  to  cry,  or,  at  least,  to  feel  grave  and  anxious, 
it  is  just  that  moment  of  life  when  it  is  customary  to  dance 
and  sing  as  if  you  were  setting  out  on  a  triumphal  proces- 
sion instead  of  taking  a  leap  into  the  dark." 

"  And  I  agree  with  the  Governor,"  said  the  Bishop. 
"  When  I  see  a  bride  crying  so  bitterly  at  the  altar  that  she 
can  hardly  utter  the  responses,  I  generally  know  she  is  going 
to  be  a  happy  wife." 

"  Thora  might  wait  until  the  wedding,  though,"  said  Aunt 
Margret,  and  then  Oscar  came  dashing  into  the  room. 

"  Out  walking — lost  count  of  the  time — only  six  minutes 
to  dress — did  it  in  five,"  he  said,  in  breathless  gasps. 

"  He's  another  pale  one,"  laughed  the  Rector.  "  Has  there 
been  a  frost  overnight  that  has  nipped  all  our  rose-buds  ? " 

"  Been  running  to  get  here,"  said  Oscar,  "  but  I've  raced 
Magnus  it  seems." 

"  Magnus  has  raced  you  in  another  way,  my  boy,"  said 
the  Rector,  nodding  his  head  toward  Thora,  who  was  blush- 
ing and  looking  down;  whereupon  the  Governor  muttered: 

"  Oscar  must  not  dream  of  marriage  yet  awhile.  He  has 
his  career  to  think  about,  and  he  has  not  been  too  earnest 
about  it  hitherto." 

"  Well,  my  experience  in  business,"  said  the  Factor,  "  is 
that  when  a  woman  marries  she  slackens  oS,  but  when  a  man 
marries  he  tightens  up." 

At  that  the  Sheriff  nudged  the  Rector,  who  whispered: 

*'  The  Factor  has  still  another  daughter.  Rector." 

"  What  if  he  has  ? "  said  the  Factor.  "  A  man  can't  have 
two  sisters-in-law  to  one  brother." 

"  No,  but  he  can  give  his  brother  a  sister-in-law,  too,"  said 
the  Rector,  and  then  everybody  laughed. 

"  That  reminds  me,"  said  the  Factor,  "  Helga  sent  us  a 
photograph  the  other  day.    Where  is  it,  Thora  ?  " 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  Thora,  taking  a  photograph  out  of  A 
drawer.  Oscar  held  out  his  hand  for  it,  and  looked  at  it  long 
and  earnestly. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  51 

"  How  fine !  I've  scarcely  ever  seen  such  a  splendid  face ! 
Quite  grown  up,  too!  Is  Helga  coming  home  soon, 
Factor?" 

"  Not  very  soon,"  said  the  Factor. 

And  then  the  lawyer  came  In  with  a  large  portfolio  of 
papers  and  laid  them  on  the  table. 

"  Ha,  ha !  "  laughed  the  Rector.  "  A  rich  man's  child 
needs  a  careful  christening,  it  seems !  " 

"  You're  right,  Rector,  and  it  has  taken  my  clerk  the  en- 
tire day  to  engross  the  contract,  but  it  was  not  that  which 
kept  me  until  now — it  was  this !  " 

"  The  rings !  "  cried  the  two  elder  women,  as  the  lawyer 
took  a  small  plush  box  from  his  pocket. 

"  Yes,  you  may  remember  that  when  the  rings  had  to  be 
ordered  yesterday  morning,  Magnus  could  not  be  found  any- 
where, so  I  was  compelled  to  order  them  myself.  Well,  I 
thought  I  gave  careful  instructions,  but  the  idea  is  abroad  in 
the  town,  do  you  know,  that  it  is  Oscar,  not  Magnus,  who  is 
to  marry  Thora — nobody  believes  anything  else — so  what 
does  Olaf,  the  silversmith,  do  but  write  '  Oscar '  on  the  in- 
side of  one  of  the  rings !  " 

"  Never !  "  said  Oscar,  trying  to  laugh  with  the  others. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  and  the  error  was  not  discovered  until  thi' 
very  last  moment,  and  then  all  I  could  do,  as  you  see,  was 
to  have  '  Oscar '  erased — it  was  too  late  to  have  *  Magnus  ' 
inscribed  instead." 

"  Where  is  Magnus,  I  wonder  ? "  said  the  Governor,  walk- 
ing restlessly  before  the  window. 

"  Don't  be  anxious  about  Magnus,  Stephen,"  said  Anna. 
"  He  grows  more  and  more  like  my  poor  father.  If  father 
promised  to  be  somewhere  at  a  certain  time  he  would  turn 
up  to  the  minute  if  he  had  to  kill  a  couple  of  ponies  in  get- 
ting there." 

The  cathedral  clock  struck  five  at  that  moment,  and  sure 
enough  before  the  clang  of  the  last  stroke  had  died  away 
Magnus  walked  into  the  room.  He  looked  slack  and  almost 
untidy  in  his  pea  jacket  and  long  boots,  and  was  the  only 
person  in  the  room  who  had  not  troubled  to  dress  for  the 
occasion.  The  Governor's  face  darkened  at  sight  of  him,  and 
the  Factor  said  in  a  tone  of  vexation : 


52  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  Well,  let  us  get  to  work  and  have  it  over — Fve  been  spoil- 
ing for  a  smoke  this  half-hour." 

The  lawyer  opened  his  portfolio,  and  the  company  gathered 
about  the  table,  whereupon  Aunt  Margret  cried: 

"  Magnus,  do  you  allow  of  this  ?  Here's  Oscar  sitting  be- 
side Thora." 

"  Don't  disturb  him,"  said  Magnus.  "  This  is  good  enough 
for  me,"  and  he  took  a  low  seat  by  the  side  of  his  mother. 

"Now,  come,"  said  the  Factor,  "let  the  one  who  has  the 
best  voice  start  the  singing." 

"  It  must  be  the  lawyer,  then,"  said  the  Rector,  "  for  every 
lawyer  has  a  voice  of  silver — passes  it  for  silver  anyway." 

And  then,  amid  the  general  laughter,  the  lawyer  opened 
the  marriage  contract  and  began  to  read. 


XI 

The  company  listened  intently,  and  at  the  close  of  every 
clause  the  Governor,  who  was  resting  his  head  on  his  hand 
and  his  elbow  on  the  table,  said :  "  Good !  "  "  Very  good !  " 
"  Generous !  "  "Most  generous !  " 

When  the  lawyer  had  finished,  the  other  old  people  leaned 
back  and  drew  long  breaths  of  satisfaction,  but  the  Govei'nor 
rose  and  crossed  to  the  Factor  and  shook  hands  with  him, 
saying :    "  Just  like  you,  old  friend !  " 

The  Factor  was  gratified  by  the  reception  of  the  docu- 
ment and  became  bright  and  almost  humorous.  Imitating 
the  manner  of  the  auctioneer,  he  cried :  "  Anybody  bid 
higher?     Then  going — going — go " 

"  Wait !  "  said  the  Governor.  "  Hadn't  we  better  ask  the 
opinion  of  the  young  people  themselves  ?  After  all,  they  are 
the  persons  ultimately  concerned,  and  though  a  cow  seldom 
kicks  when  you  are  carrying  her  clover " 

There  was  a  general  titter,  a  nodding  of  many  heads  and 
muttered  responses  of  "  Just  so ! "  "  Just  a  matter  of 
form!" 

"  Very  well !  Thora,  what  do  you  say  ?  "  said  the  Factor, 
expecting  a  burst  of  rapturous  approval,  but  Thora  only 
answered  timidly: 


THE   PRODIGAL    SON  53 

**  I  don't  know.    Hadn't  you  better  ask  Magnus  first  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  my  dear — Magnus  first,  as  a  matter  of  course. 
What  do  you  say,  Magnus  ?  Any  suggestion  to  make  ?  Any 
little  improvement?    How  do  you  like  the  contract?" 

There  was  an  awkward  silence  which  astonished  the  older 
people,  and  then  came  a  great  surprise.  Magnus,  who  had 
been  sitting  with  his  head  down,  raised  a  white  and  firm-set 
face  and  answered : 

"  I  do  not  like  the  contract  at  all.  Factor,  and  I  cannot 
sign  it." 

At  this  there  were  looks  of  bewilderment  among  the  older 
people,  who  seemed  to  be  uncertain  if  they  had  heard  aright, 
while  Thora  and  Oscar,  who  partly  understood,  seemed  to  be 
struggling  to  catch  their  breath.  The  Factor  was  the  first 
to  recover  his  self-possession,  and  he  said,  with  a  slightly 
supercilious  accent: 

"  Is  that  so  ?  I  thought  I  knew  something  of  these  mat- 
ters; but  if  you  think  you  can  draw  up  a  better  document, 
Magnus " 

But  then  the  Governor  interposed :  "  Some  trifle,  no 
doubt,"  he  said  suavely.  "  Magnus  will  explain.  What  is 
the  point  you  object  to,  my  son  ? " 

There  was  another  moment  of  tense  silence,  and  then  Mag- 
nus said  in  a  harsh  voice : 

"  By  this  contract  I  am  required  to  live  in  Iceland  all  my 
life — that's  slavery,  and  I  will  not  submit  to  it." 

"  But,  my  dear  Magnus,"  said  Anna,  "  don't  you  see  the 
reason  for  that?  To  all  intents  and  purposes  Thora  is  the 
Factor's  only  daughter — his  only  child — and  if  she  goes  away, 
who  is  to  cheer  him  up  and  make  home  bright  for  him? 
Be  reasonable,  Magnus !  " 

"  Anna,  hadn't  we  better  let  the  young  man  finish  ? "  said 
the  Factor.    "  He  may  have  other  objections.    Have  you?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Magnus.  "  According  to  this  contract  I  am 
to  be  taken  into  partnership  on  marrying  Thora,  but  only 
on  a  quarter  share.  Partnership  is  partnership,  and  where 
there  are  two  partners  it  should  be  half  and  half — I  must 
have  half." 

The  company  listened  in  consternation,  and  the  Factor 
began  to  laugh.     "  Why  not  ? "  he  said  in  a  cynical  tone. 


54  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  Everything  is  hay  in  hard  weather.  I'm  so  hard  up  for 
a  son-in-law  that  I  shouldn't  stick  at  a  trifle." 

"  Old  friend,"  said  the  Governor,  "  let  us  not  be  too 
hasty.    Perhaps  Magnus  has  not  made  himself  quite  plain." 

"  As  plain  as  a  pikestaff.  He  wants  an  equal  partnership. 
But  perhaps  that  is  not  all.    Is  there  anything  else  ?  " 

"  Yes,  there  is,  sir,"  said  Magnus,  in  a  rather  aggressive 
manner.  "  By  this  deed,  when  you  retire  I  am  to  take  over 
the  business,  but  I  am  only  to  have  one-third  share  of  the 
profits.    I  must  have  two-thirds." 

"  In — deed !  "  said  the  Factor.  "  Do  you  know  I  thought 
if  I  allowed  you  to  come  into  the  business  that  I  had  made, 
and  to  work  it  with  my  plant  and  my  capital,  one-third  was 
generous." 

"  Most  generous !  "  said  the  Governor,  mopping  his  fore- 
head. "  But  Magnus  is  slow — slow  both  of  thought  and 
speech.  He  must  have  some  explanation.  What  do  you 
mean,  Magnus  ?    Take  your  time  and  speak  plainly." 

"  I  mean,  sir,"  said  Magnus,  "  that  the  barter  business  in 
Iceland  will  break  up  before  long.  When  the  Factor  re- 
tires— perhaps  before — his  business  will  be  worth  nothing — 
not  even  the  name,  for  that  will  be  less  than  nothing.  A 
new  business  will  have  to  be  created,  and  if  I  am  to  create 
it  I  must  have  two-thirds  of  the  profits,  leaving  one-third  for 
the  use  of  the  Factor's  money." 

The  Factor  was  losing  his  temper.  "  Why  any  at  all  ? " 
he  said.  "Why  not  kick  me  out  altogether?  No  use  beat- 
ing a  dog  with  a  cheese  when  a  whip  is  handy." 

The  company  were  murmuring  at  Magnus,  when  the  Gov- 
ernor interposed  again.  "  Magnus,"  he  said,  "  to  say  I'm 
astonished  is  to  say  nothing.  The  Factor  has  treated  you 
with  boundless  liberality,  but  no  well  is  so  deep  that  it  can't 
be  emptied,  and  if  you  go  any  farther " 

"  Go  any  farther !  "  said  the  Factor.  "  Why  shouldn't  he 
go  farther  ?  It  isn't  fair  play  between  the  wind  and  a  straw, 
but  why  shouldn't  he  beat  me  about  a  little  more  ?  Anything 
else  to  ask,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Magnus,  without  the  change  of  a  muscle.  "  By 
this  contract  my  wife  is  to  inherit  half  her  father's  fortime 
at  his  death — she  must  inherit  the  whole  of  it." 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  55 

"Good  Lord!" 

The  exclamation  seemed  to  come  from  everybody  in  the 
general  chorus  of  condemnation  which  followed. 

"  Are  you  dreaming?  "  cried  the  Governor.  "  Do  you  for- 
get that  the  Factor  has  another  daughter?  " 

"  'No,  sir,  I  do  not  forget  it,"  said  Magnus.  "  But  the 
other  daughter  has  gone  away  with  her  mother;  she  may 
never  come  back;  and  after  Thora  has  spent  her  life  by  her 
father's  side — cheering  him  up  and  making  his  home  bright, 
as  mother  says — and,  perhaps,  nursing  him  in  his  last  days — 
is  somebody  else,  who  has  done  nothing,  to  sweep  off  half 
of  all  he  leaves  behind?  No!  My  wife — if  I  marry — must 
have  everything ! " 

The  older  people,  both  strangers  and  members  of  the  fam- 
ily, broke  into  loud  expressions  of  dissent,  while  the  Factor 
looked  round  at  them,  and  said,  "  An  eagle  isn't  displeased 
with  a  dead  sheep,  is  it  ?  And  so,  Mr.  Governor's  son,"  he 
said,  wheeling  about  on  Magnus,  "  these  are  the  only  terms 
on  which  you  will  do  me  the  honor  to  marry  my  daughter  ?  " 

Without  noticing  the  sneer,  Magnus  answered  "  Yes." 

"Well,  I  must  say  Fm  deceived  in  Magnus,"  said  Aunt 
Margret.  "  I  didn't  think  he  had  a  selfish  thought  in  his 
heart." 

"I  didn't  think,"  said  the  Factor,  who  was  not  laughing 
any  longer,  "  I  didn't  think  the  son  of  anybody  in  Iceland 
could  afford  to  turn  up  his  nose  at  a  daughter  of  mine." 

"  Neilsen,"  said  the  Governor,  firmly,  "  we  have  been 
friends  since  we  were  boys,  and  neither  of  us  knows  which 
will  bury  the  other — don't  let  us  quarrel  now  over  the  con- 
duct of  our  children." 

The  company  murmured  approval,  and  then  the  Governor 
turned  once  more  to  Magnus. 

"  My  son — for  you  are  my  son,  though  I'm  at  a  loss  to 
understand  it — you  are  making  a  breach  between  two  fam- 
ilies by  asking  these  utterly  impossible  terms!  Don't  you 
see  they  are  impossible?  Have  you  taken  leave  of  your 
senses?  Are  you  quite  mad?  Or  is  it  true  that  you  have  been 
drinking — that  you  are  drunk  ?    Good  God !  " 

Magnus  made  no  answer,  but  the  painful  silence  which 
followed  the  Governor's  outburst  was  broken  by  a  pitiful  cry. 


56  THE    PKODIGAL    SON 

It  came  from  Thora.  She  understood  everything  at  last; 
she  knew  what  Magnus  was  doing  for  her  and  the  price  he 
was  going  to  pay  for  it ;  and  she  wanted  to  cry  out,  but  could 
not;  so  she  dropped  her  head  on  Aunt  Margret's  shoulder 
and  wept  bitterly. 

Anna  mistook  Thora's  tears  for  shame  and  humiliation, 
and  turning  to  Magnus  she  said : 

"  My  dear  son,  you  haven't  thought  of  things  in  the  right 
way  or  you  couldn't  do  what  you  are  doing.  I  don't  like  these 
marriage  contracts  myself.  It  seems  like  a  tempting  of 
Providence  to  talk  about  money  and  business  just  when  two 
souls  who  love  one  another  are  joining  themselves  together 
and  becoming  one.  But  you  are  making  it  worse,  Magnus — 
you  are  making  it  a  mere  bargain.  And,  then,  think  of 
Thora !  If  you  refuse  her  father's  offer  everybody  will  hear 
of  it,  and  the  poor  girl  will  be  shamed.  Do  you  want  to  see 
that,  Magnus  ?  I'm  sure  you  do  not !  So  come  now,  for 
Thora's  sake — even  though  you  don't  quite  like  the  Factor's 
conditions,  for  Thora's  sake,  Magnus — will  you  not  ?  " 

Everybody  waited  for  Magnus's  reply,  and  even  Thora 
raised  her  head. 

"No,"  said  Magnus,  in  a  voice  like  a  growl,  and  then  he 
sat  with  a  stolid  face  while  the  condemnation  of  the  com- 
pany fell  upon  him  in  a  choiais  of  denunciation.  "  Infa- 
mous!" "Hateful!"  "Execrable!"  "Damnable!"  "The 
man's  heart  must  be  as  black  as  a  raven." 

Oscar  could  bear  no  more.  He  had  been  sitting  silent,  with 
head  down,  as  if  trying  to  hide  his  agitated  face,  while  turn- 
ing Helga's  photograph  over  and  over  in  his  restless  fingers ; 
but  now  he  rose,  walked  to  the  curtains,  which  divided  the 
front  room  from  the  back,  parted  them  with  a  trembling 
hand,  and  looked  out  over  the  lake  on  which  the  sun  was 
setting. 

"  Don't  go  away,  Oscar,"  cried  the  Governor.  "  I  know 
you  are  disgusted  with  your  brother's  turpitude ;  but  I  want 
you  to  speak  to  him  for  all  that.  It  is  hardly  likely  that  hav- 
ing refused  to  pay  attention  to  his  mother  or  me,  he  should 
listen  to  you  or  anybody  else,  but  try  him.  For  the  honor  of 
the  family,  tell  him  that  if  he  adheres  to  the  attitude  he  has 
taken  up,  he  will  be  an  object  of  hatred  and  contempt.    As 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  57 

long  as  he  lives  people  will  despise  him,  and  his  family  will 
be  ashamed  to  acknowledge  his  name.  If  he  has  no  love  for 
Thora,  see  if  he  has  any  respect  for  himself.  Speak  to  your 
brother,  Oscar,  for  mercy's  sake,  speak  to  him." 

Oscar's  hand  on  the  curtain  shook  visibly,  and  he  said, 
with  an  effort,  while  all  listened  without  breathing,  and 
Thora's  parted  lips  quivered: 

"  I  cannot  do  that,  father.  I  do  not  feel  that  I  have  any 
right.  No  doubt  Magnus  knows  as  well  as  we  do  what  he 
is  doing,  and  has  counted  all  the  consequences.  Everybody 
has  to  live  his  own  life." 

At  this  there  was  a  murmur  of  disappointment,  and  the 
Governor,  turning  away,  walked  to  the  window.  Then  Os- 
car stepped  back  to  the  table,  and  said,  more  firmly,  yet  with 
as  much  emotion : 

"  But  if  I  cannot  appeal  to  Magnus,  there  is  something 
I  can  do — I  can  offer  to  take  Magnus's  place.  If  you  and 
the  Factor  will  consent  I  can  accept  the  conditions  of  the 
contract  just  as  they  are,  and  be  only  too  proud  to  marry 
Thora  if  she  will  accept  me." 

At  first  there  were  looks  of  blank  amazement  about  the 
table,  then  a  general  sigh  of  relief,  and  everybody  seemed 
to  be  saying  at  once,  "  Good !  "  "  Splendid !  "  "  The  very 
thing ! " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  voice  of  the  Governor,  husky  with  emo- 
tion, "it  is  just  like  Oscar — always  doing  the  great  thing! 
But  in  a  matter  which  so  intimately  concerns  the  boy's  future 
welfare  I  cannot  allow  a  momentary  impulse  of  gener- 
osity  " 

"  It  isn't  a  momentary  impulse,  father.  Since  I  came 
home  from  England  I  have  learnt  to  love  Thora.  But  she 
was  engaged  to  my  brother,  and  I  couldn't  speak  imtil  Mag- 
nus had  spoken " 

^  Honorable !  "  "  Most  honorable !  "  said  several  voices, 
and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  Oscar  could  go  on. 

"  But  now — if  it  is  understood  that  Magnus  retires,  that 
is  to  say,  refuses  to  marry  Thora " 

"  He  does,  undoubtedly  he  does,"  said  the  Factor. 

"And  if  Thora  will  take  me " 

Every  eye  looked  toward  Thora;  she  hesitated  for  a 
5 


58  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

moment,  then  rose  from  her  chair  and  timidlj  held  out  her 
hand.  Oscar  grasped  it  eagerly  and  there  was  a  chorus  of 
congratulation. 

''  But  we  cannot  allow  Thora,  either,  to  be  carried  away 
by  a  momentary  impulse,"  said  Aunt  Margret,  who  was  vig- 
orously wiping  her  eyes,  "  and  if  she's  only  doing  this  to 
escape  from  a  shameful  position " 

"  I'm  not,  auntie,"  said  Thora.  "  I  only  consented  to 
marry  Magnus  because  my  father  wished  it,  but  I  love  Oscar, 
and  if  father  will  agree " 

The  Factor's  eyes  were  sparkling  with  the  light  of  triumph, 
and  he  cried  across  to  the  Governor,  "  What  do  you  say, 
Stephen?" 

"  Well,  I  must  say  it's  fast  ambling — too  fast,"  said  the 
Governor,  "  but  if  the  young  people  are  satisfied,  and  if 
Oscar  is  content  to  give  up  his  career  in  England — his  music 
and  his  studies — and  live  in  Iceland  all  his  life,  it  may  save 
a  breach  between  our  families  and  tide  us  over  an  ugly 
reef " 

"  Then  so  be  it,  godson,"  cried  the  Factor,  slapping  Oscar 
on  the  back,  "  and  as  for  England,  I'll  take  care  of  that !  " 

This  was  received  with  a  shout  of  approval  from  the 
strangers,  and  then  lihe  Factor  called  to  the  lawyer  to  alter 
the  names  in  the  contract  and  get  it  signed  without  delay. 

"  As  for  you,  sir,"  he  said,  turning  to  Magnus,  and  snap- 
ping his  fingers  in  his  face,  "  your  ugly  chickens  have  come 
home  to  roost.  You  thought  you  could  corner  me,  but  your 
selfishness  and  worldliness  have  done  the  work  that  every- 
body seems  to  have  wanted.  Ha,  ha,  ha !  he  laughs  best  who 
laughs  last!  There's  nothing  I  like  better  than  to  dish  a 
man  who  tries  to  dish  me,  and  I'll  go  to  bed  happy  to-night." 

Magnus  had  risen  from  his  low  seat  and  was  standing 
with  his  head  down  and  his  hands  on  his  hips  while  the 
storm  beat  over  him,  and  thinking  he  was  still  unmoved  the 
Factor  burst  upon  him  again  in  a  tone  of  biting  raillery : 

"  But  if  the  barter  trade  is  going  to  the  dogs,  hadn't  you 
better  cut  it  before  the  crash  comes  ?  Heavy  is  the  fall,  you 
know,  when  an  old  man  tumbles,  and  I  might  crush  you  com- 
ing down.  I'll  trouble  you  to  leave  my  house,  sir,  without 
a  day's  delaj." 


THE    niODIGAL    SON  59 

"  Father !  "  cried  Thora,  and  she  stepped  hetween  them, 
but  the  Factor  brushed  her  aside. 

"  You  get  away,  Thora.  If  a  daughter  of  mine  had  done 
to  me  what  he  has  tried  to  do  to-day  she  wouldn't  have  a 
roof  to  cover  her  to-night." 

"Neither  shall  a  son  of  mine — not  in  this  town,  at  all 
events,"  said  the  Governor.    "  Magnus  Stephenson " 

"  Stephen !  Stephen !  "  said  Anna,  and  Oscar,  in  the  same 
quivering  voice  as  before,  cried  out  to  his  father. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  Anna !  Oscar,  be  quiet,  you've  done 
enough  for  one  day!  Magnus  Stephenson,  when  you  leave 
the  Factor's  house  you  will  go  to  Thingvellir,  and  stay  there, 
and  thank  your  stars  if  for  the  rest  of  your  life  you  are 
allowed  to  earn  your  bread  by  the  sweat  of  .your  brow." 

"  The  amended  contract  is  ready  for  the  signatures,"  said 
the  lawyer,  and  then  everybody  save  one  turned  back  to  the 
table,  and  there  was  a  cackle  of  cheerful  voices.  "Wlaen  the 
names  were  all  signed  and  witnessed,  the  rings  were  ex- 
changed, and  there  was  some  joking  and  happy  laughter. 

"  All's  well  that  ends  well,"  said  the  Bishop.  "  That  will 
do  as  a  pledge  between  you  until  you  come  to  me  to  be  made 
man  and  wife." 

"  Supper  is  ready,"  cried  Aunt  Margret,  drawing  the  cur- 
tains of  the  inner  room,  and  then  seeing  a  photograph  on  the 
floor  beneath  them,  she  said,  "  but  who's  been  treading  on 
poor  Helga's  portrait  ?  " 

"  That's  Oscar,"  said  Thora.  "  He  had  it  in  his  hand  when 
he  got  up." 

When  the  company  were  seated  about  the  supper  table  it 
was  seen  that  there  was  one  chair  too  many,  and  the  Gover- 
nor pushed  it  back  with  an  impatient  hand.  Magnus  had 
gone — no  one  had  seen  him  go. 


XII 

Alone  and  forgotten,  a  prey  to  the  devilish  voices  which 
had  tortured  him  in  the  time  of  his  temptation,  angry  and 
unsatisfied  although  he  had  carried  out  his  purpose  and  tri- 
umphed as  he  had  intended,  Magnus  was  in  his  room  at  the 


60  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

top  of  the  house  gathering  up  his  belongings  by  the  light 
of  a  candle. 

They  were  few  and  not  valuable — a  little  money,  two  or 
three  suits  of  clothes,  two  or  three  pairs  of  riding,  fishing, 
and  snow  boots,  some  musical  exercise  books,  the  "  Book  of 
Job,"  "  The  Pilgrim's  Progress "  (having  illustrations  of 
Apollyon  with  horns),  and  the  precious  flute  with  which  he 
had  beguiled  those  blessed  evenings  that  now  seemed  to  be- 
long to  another  existence.  He  had  sent  for  two  ponies  to 
take  him  to  the  farm — a  saddle  pony  and  a  pack  pony — and 
two  small  boxes  held  everything.  When  all  was  packed  he 
came  upon  the  remains  of  a  bottle  of  brandy  which  he  had 
kept  in  his  bedroom  as  medicine,  and  he  drank  the  spirit 
and  threw  the  bottle  away. 

During  that  short  hour  of  pain  and  degradation  he  heard 
at  intervals  the  various  noises  of  the  company  at  supper 
below — sometimes  in  single  voices,  sometimes  in  climbing 
cries  like  the  sounds  of  a  geyser,  sometimes  in  peals  of  joyous 
laughter — and  his  heart  grew  bitter.  He  could  plainly  dis- 
tinguish Oscar's  voice  among  the  rest,  at  first  quiet  enough, 
but  afterward  loud  and  hilarious,  and  his  very  soul  sickened. 

"  You  fool !  "  said  the  other  voices  at  his  ear.  "  What  did 
you  expect?  Did  you  think  he  would  be  overwhelmed  with 
sorrow?  He  is  glad;  he'll  walk  over  your  head,  and  over 
Thora's  head,  too!  Listen  to  him  already — the  sweet,  un- 
selfish, privileged  pet  of  everj'body !  " 

After  the  boxes  had  been  sent  down-stairs  Magnus  took  a 
last  look  round,  and  then  he  tried  to  shut  out  all  bitter 
thoughts  and  evil  passions,  for  he  believed  that  he  was  leav- 
ing that  room  for  ever.  It  had  been  his  home  through  seven 
long  years,  and  some  of  them  had  been  bad  years,  but  some 
of  them  had  been  good,  and  the  good  ones  filled  the  little 
place  with  memories  of  many  visions. 

The  slooping  roof,  the  dormer  window,  the  deal  furniture, 
the  sheep's  skin  on  the  bare  floor,  and  the  sunflower  pattern 
on  the  wall-paper  were  all  ghosts  of  the  dreams  he  had  dreamt 
there.  Some  were  dreams  of  the  great  things  he  was  going 
to  do  for  Iceland,  but  more  were  dreams  of  Thora,  and  re- 
membering that  both  sorts  were  dead  now,  and  that  Thora 
belonged  to  Oscar,  to  save  himself  from  further  repining  and 


THE   PRODIGAL    SON  61 

to  crush  down  the  riot  that  was  rising  within,  he  hlew  out 
the  candle  and  that  chapter  of  his  life  was  at  an  end. 

But  the  devilish  voices  were  not  yet  done  with  him.  Go- 
ing down-stairs  he  had  to  pass  the  door  of  the  front  room 
on  the  first  landing,  and  he  went  by  it  on  tiptoe.  For  years 
he  had  always  passed  that  door  on  tiptoe,  for  it  was  the 
door  to  Thora's  room,  a  holy  place,  half  nursery,  half  sanc- 
tuary, as  Thora  herself  had  grown  to  be  half  saint  to  him 
and  half  child;  but  he  was  not  thinking  of  that  this  time. 
He  was  thinking  he  must  get  out  of  the  house  without  see- 
ing her  again,  for  she  belonged  to  Oscar  now,  and  if  they 
were  to  meet  and  she  began  to  thank  him  for  giving  her  to 
Oscar — but  God  forbid ! 

Thora's  door  was  closed,  but  the  next  room  stood  open.  It 
was  Aunt  Margret's  bedroom,  and  Magnus  knew  that  a 
photograph  of  Thora  was  on  the  chest  of  drawers  near  the 
door.  He  had  often  envied  it,  and  now  he  stooped  to  look 
at  it  for  the  last  time,  and  the  voices  at  his  ear  seemed 
to  say,  "Take  it;  it's  all  you  are  going  to  carry  away 
of  her." 

Going  down  the  last  flight  of  stairs  he  heard  the  two 
sitting-rooms  buzzing  like  the  mill-house,  and  knew  that 
others  must  have  joined  the  party;  but  above  all  other  sounds 
he  heard  the  sound  of  Oscar's  voice,  clear  as  a  flute,  saluting 
people  as  they  came  in.  "  Listen  to  him !  The  darling !  " 
said  the  mocking  voices  by  his  side. 

Coming  to  the  hall,  he  encountered  some  of  the  women  o£ 
the  town  in  their  feast-day  dresses,  and  with  garden  flowers 
in  their  hands.  Hardly  any  of  them  looked  at  him,  but 
all  passed  into  the  sitting-room,  where  Oscar  waited  to  wel- 
come them. 

The  hat-stand  in  the  hall  had  been  cleared  for  the  new- 
comers, therefore  Magnus  had  to  go  to  a  rail  under  the  stairs 
for  his  overcoat  and  riding-whip,  and  while  he  was  there 
Aunt  Margret  opened  the  door  of  the  back  sitting-room  to 
ventilate  the  crowded  place.  She  did  not  see  him,  for  she 
had  taken  off  the  spectacles  she  usually  wore,  and  he  was 
standing  in  the  shadow,  but  he  saw  everybody  in  the  room, 
and  Thora  among  the  rest. 

Thora  was  sitting  by  the  wall,  and  the  townspeople  were 


62  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

going  up  to  her  one  after  another  and  offering  their  flowers 
and  making  congratulatory  speeches.  And  she  was  thanking 
them  in  her  soft  voice  and  looking  very  happy. 

Magnus  was  hurt  by  Thora's  happiness.  He  had  done  all 
he  could  to  make  her  happy ;  he  had  sacrificed  everything ;  but 
now  that  he  looked  on  her  happiness  he  was  hurt  by  it;  and 
when  Oscar  went  and  stood  by  her  chair,  looking  bright  and 
proud,  he  felt  hot  with  anger  and  hatred. 

While  he  pulled  on  his  overcoat  he  could  not  help  hearing 
what  was  being  said  within  the  room.  "  Such  an  extraordi- 
nary thing,  Thora,"  said  one,  "  people  in  the  town  actually 
said  it  was  Magnus  you  were  going  to  marry !  "  "I  heard 
that,  too,"  said  anothei-.  "  I  heard  it  at  Olaf's,  the  silver- 
smith's, when  we  were  drinking  coffee."  "Such  an  idea!" 
said  a  third,  "  as  if  any  girl  would  marry  Magnus  who  could 
get  Oscar !  "  And  then  Oscar's  voice,  large,  expansive,  in- 
dulgent, almost  patronizing,  "  Tut,  tut !  You  mustn't  say 
anything  against  Magnus,  Elisabet !  "  "  But  I  hear  Magnus 
insulted  Thora  this  evening,  and  the  Factor  has  turned  him 
out  for  it."  "  Can  it  be  possible  ?  I  saw  him  in  the  hall  as 
I  was  coming  in !  "  "  No,  no,  not  insulted — not  insulted  ex- 
actly," said  Oscar's  voice  again,  and  then  Magnus,  sick  and 
dizzy,  turned  away. 

He  was  going  out  of  the  house  with  head  down  when  the 
door  of  the  front  sitting-room  opened  and  closed  quickly, 
and  he  found  himself  face  to  face  Avith  Thora.  She  was  try- 
ing to  look  sad,  but  the  light  of  her  happiness  was  still  in 
her  eyes,  and  her  parted  lips  were  smiling. 

"  I  heard  you  were  here,"  she  said,  "  and  I  couldn't  help 
coming  out  to  see  you.  Oscar  told  me  yesterday  I  was  not 
to  speak,  whatever  happened,  but  it  seems  so  terrible  that 
you  should  leave  us  like  this." 

"  We  made  a  mistake,  and  we  had  to  get  out  of  it  some- 
how," said  Magnus. 

"  I  know,"  said  Thora.  "  And  of  course  I  think  it  will  be 
the  best  thing  in  the  end.  You  would  have  had  no  joy  of  me, 
Magnus,  and  I  should  have  been  veiy  unhappy." 

"  Perhaps  you  would,"  said  Magnus. 

"  But  it  is  a  great  grief  to  me  that  you  will  have  to  give 
up  all  the  schemes  you  had  set  your  heart  upon,  Magnus," 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  63 

"I  have  given  up  more  than  that,  Thora,"  said  Magnus, 
and  he  tried  to  push  past  her  and  go. 

The  light  of  her  smile  died  off  her  face,  and  with  a  wistful 
look,  in  a  pleading  voice,  she  said : 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  am  losing  a  friend,  Magnus,  and  you  are 
saying  good-by  to  me  for  good." 

"  Not  that  exactly,"  said  Magnus. 

"  Good-by,  Magnus !  " 

«  Good-by!" 

They  were  standing  with  hands  clasped  in  what  they  be- 
lieved to  be  their  last  parting  when  the  buxz  of  the  inner 
room  broke  out  upon  them  again,  and  a  cheery  voice  cried : 

"  Thora !  Thora !  Where  are  you  ? — Oh,  it's  you, 
Magnus  ? " 

It  was  Oscar,  and  at  the  next  moment  Thora  had  gone 
back,  the  door  of  the  sit.ing-room  had  closed  behind  her,  and 
Magnus  and  his  brother  were  together  in  the  hall. 

"  I  meant  to  come  out  to  you  before,  old  fellow,"  said 
Oscar,  "  but  they  stuck  to  me  like  leeches,  and  I  couldn't 
get  away.  I  wanted  to  thank  you  for  what  you  did  for  me 
this  evening.  It  was  too  generous,  too  brotherly,  and  I  can 
never  be  sufficiently  grateful." 

Magnus  did  not  answer,  so  Oscar  went  on : 

"  You  pledged  me  to  silence,  and  you  were  right,  plainly 
right;  but,  of  course,  I  cannot  allow  the  error  about  your  mo- 
tive to  go  much  farther,  and  as  soon  as  it  is  safe  to  do  so 
I  will  set  you  right.  People  shall  know  the  truth  about 
what  you  did,  and  why  you  did  it ;  and  they  will  make  amends 
for  their  mistake." 

Still  Magnus  did  not  speak,  so  Oscar  continued : 

"  It's  too  bad,  though,  that  you  should  suffer  in  the  mean- 
time, and  if  there  is  anything  I  could  do  for  you — in  a  ma- 
terial way,  I  mean — if  you  are  in  want  of " 

But  the  dark  fire  that  was  rising  in  Magnus's  face  fright- 
ened him^  and  he  could  not  finish  what  he  wished  to  say. 

"  I  don't  care  a  straw  what  people  think  I  did  it  for,"  said 
Magnus,  "  and  I  don't  care  a  damn  if  they  never  make 
amends.  You  know  what  I  did  it  for,  and  that's  enough  for 
me.  I  did  it  for  the  sake  of  Thora.  I  gave  her  up  to  you 
that  you  might  love  her  and  cherish  her  and  make  her  happy. 


64  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

and  be  a  better  husband  to  her  than  I  could  be.  But  if  you 
don't  do  it ;  if  you  ever  neglect  her  or  desert  her  or  give  her 
up  for  another  woman,  I'll  take  her  back.  Do  you  hear  me?  " 
— (Magnus  swayed  like  a  drunken  man  and  laid  hold  of 
Oscar's  arm) — "  I'll  take  her  back,  and  then — then,  by 
God,  I'll  kill  you!" 

Saying  this,  he  walked  heavily  out  of  the  house,  leaving 
Oscar  with  white  cheeks  and  gibbering  lips,  alone  in  the 
hall. 

His  ponies  were  waiting  for  him  in  the  street  ready  for 
the  journey  to  Thingvellir.  The  night  was  dark,  but  the 
windows  of  the  house  were  bright,  for  the  blinds  had  been 
drawn  and  the  sashes  thrown  open.  A  cackle  of  many  voices 
came  out  of  them,  for  the  company  within  was  now  large  and 
very  merry.  While  Magnus  tightened  the  girths  somebody 
played  a  guitar,  and  as  he  was  riding  away  Oscar  began  to 
sing. 


PART  II 


*'  Impotent  pieces  of  the  game  he  plays 

Upon  this  cheqver-boa/)-d  of  nights  and  days  ; 
Hither  and  thither  m.oves^  and  checks,  and  slays 
And  one  by  one  back  in  the  closet  lays. " 


Oscar  did  his  best  to  keep  the  fire  burning  in  the  inner 
sanctuary — the  fire  of  love  and  duty — but  oftener  than  he 
was  aware  it  flickered,  and  seemed  to  be  in  danger  of  dying 
out.  He  tried  to  tell  the  truth  about  Magnus,  but  as  fre- 
quently as  he  thought  out  a  way  of  doing  so  he  was  con- 
fronted by  the  ugly  question  which  would  surely  be  asked : 
"  Can  it  be  possible  that  you  stood  passively  aside  while  we 
condemned  Magnus  for  a  vice  he  was  not  guilty  of,  and 
praised  you  for  a  virtue  you  did  not  possess  ?  "  The  humili- 
ation of  speech  like  that  would  be  deeper  than  the  degrada- 
tion of  silence,  and  from  day  to  day  Oscar  postponed  the 
painful  confession.  Thus  a  month  passed,  and  he  had  said 
nothing. 

His  position  would  have  been  easier  if  he  had  been  getting 
on  better  with  his  work — if  he  could  have  felt  it  impossible 
that  the  Factor  could  regret  the  loss  of  Magnus.  Then  he 
would  have  said,  "After  all,  though  naturally  you  didn't 
think  so  at  the  time,  everything  has  been  for  the  best,'* 
whereupon  the  Factor  would  have  said,  "  You  are  right,  god- 
son," and  after  that  he  would  have  told  all. 

But  his  work  was  going  badly,  and  there  was  no  blinking 
the  fact  that  he  was  a  poor  business  man.  On  first  going 
into  the  Factor's,  on  the  footing  the  contract  gave  him,  ha 
rambled  from  office  to  warehouse  with  aimless  and  shiftlesg 
uncertainty,  dressed  with  Bohemian  freedom,  and  looking 
like  a  butterfly   in   a  back  alley.     Then   the  Factor  said, 

65 


66  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

**  Come,  come,  young  fellow,  we  must  be  getting  to  work; 
choose  a  department  and  be  responsible  for  it." 

Oscar  selected  the  export  department.  This  brought  him 
into  I'elation  with  the  farmers,  and  some  of  them  cheated 
him  unmercifully,  concealing  their  inferior  wool  in  the  body 
of  the  packs  he  bought  from  them.  Magnus  would  have 
rooted  out  both  the  bad  stuff  and  the  men  who  brought  it, 
and  they  would  have  gone  flying  before  his  threatening  face; 
but  Oscar  wished  to  stand  well  with  everybody,  and  the  firm 
suffered  accordingly. 

After  a  week  he  wished  to  change.  He  thought  the  im- 
port department  would  suit  him  better :  "  Very  well,"  said 
the  Factor.  "  Mistakes  are  made  by  the  young  as  well  as 
the  old — buckle  to  at  the  imports,  my  boy." 

The  imports  brought  him  into  relation  with  the  mates  of 
steamers  and  trading  ships,  and  they  were  quick  to  shufl3.e 
their  responsibility  for  damaged  freights  onto  Oscar's 
shoulders. 

After  another  week  he  went  back  to  the  Factor  and  said, 
"  I  don't  think  a  department  is  what  suits  me  best,  god- 
father— why  not  let  me  have  a  general  supervision  ?  "  The 
Factor  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  replied,  "  I'm  willing. 
You  shall  be  my  right-hand  man,  then,  and  I'll  ease  off  as 
soon  as  you  are  ready." 

But  from  that  moment  onward  Oscar  did  nothing,  good, 
bad,  or  indifferent.  He  was  always  running  about  like  one 
out  of  breath,  but  he  came  at  any  hour  in  the  morning  and 
left  at  any  time  in  the  evening,  and  was  always  skipping  off 
to  see  Thora.  That  little  lady  was  entirely  content,  but  the 
Factor  was  heard  to  say  to  Aunt  Margret,  "  There  was 
something  in  Magnus  after  all,  Margret."  And  Aunt  Mar- 
gret was  heard  to  answer,  "  Many  a  good  sword  is  in  a  bad 
sheath,  you  know." 

But  one  day  Oscar  came  flying  to  the  Factor  in  breathless 
haste  with  his  mouth  full  of  great  news.  The  Member  of 
Parliament  for  the  town  was  dead,  and  the  Radical  party 
were  already  preparing  to  run  a  candidate — an  out-and-out 
Socialist  named  Oddsson,  an  enemy  of  the  old  order  in  both 
politics  and  trade. 

"  Why  shouldn't  I  go  into  Althing  ?  "  said  Oscar.    "  I  could 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  67 

protect  the  business  against  these  rascally  revolutionaries, 
and  help  to  preserve  the  old  principles." 

"  Let  me  talk  to  your  father  first,"  said  the  Factor. 

The  old  friends  agreed  that  the  scheme  was  a  good  one. 
Not  only  was  the  man  Oddsson  a  believer  in  Magnus's  doc- 
trine about  the  barter  trade,  but  he  was  the  champion  of  an 
agitation  for  establishing  a  new  constitution  in  Iceland, 
which  would  abolish  the  Governor  and  set  up  a  Minister 
responsible  to  Parliament  alone.  He  must  be  kept  out.  In 
self-defense  they  must  fight  the  common  enemy!  Oscar 
would  be  a  good  candidate,  being  young  and  bright  and 
clever,  and  a  personal  favorite. 

"  But  I  cannot  appear  in  the  contest,"  said  the  Governor. 

"  Leave  it  to  me,"  said  the  Factor,  and  he  went  back  and 
told  Oscar,  who  shouted  with  delight  and  shot  off  to  tell 
Thora. 

By  this  time  Thora  had  spent  a  long  month  in  radiant 
happiness.  If  she  thought  sometimes  of  Magnus's  position, 
she  remembered  that  Oscar  had  said  he  would  set  things 
right,  and  the  delay  counted  for  little,  because  she  measured 
existence  by  days  no  longer,  but  by  emotions,  and  she  was 
conscious  of  one  emotion  only — love  for  Oscar,  and  therefore 
for  everybody  and  everything  in  the  world. 

As  the  year  was  growing  elderly  and  its  withering  winds 
made  further  excursions  to  the  islands  of  the  fiord  impos- 
sible, they  remained  at  home  and  romped  like  children  or 
played  the  guitar  and  piano.  At  such  times  Thora  was  not 
without  certain  backward  thoughts  of  Magnus,  for  the  room 
was  the  same  and  nothing  was  different  except  the  hour  of 
the  day,  but  there  was  always  the  difference  of  its  being 
Oscar. 

He  taught  her  some  Icelandic  love  songs,  and  she  sang 
them  in  a  thin  sweet  treble,  which  Oscar  cheered  tumul- 
tuously.  It  did  not  hurt  her  in  the  least  that  Oscar  never 
took  her  singing  seriously — he  did  not  take  Thora  herself 
seriously.  He  called  her  "  Baby  Thora,"  and  she  christened 
him  the  "  Bad  Boy." 

The  moment  he  had  left  her  sight  she  would  send  a  letter 
after  him,  like  a  handkerchief  he  had  forgotten.  He  always 
replied,  and  his  letters  were  full  of  affectionate  banter,  but 


68  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

perhaps  at  the  bottom  of  her  heart  she  was  a  little  disap- 
pointed with  them.  They  were  not  quite  lover-like  enough; 
there  were  scarcely  any  of  them  she  could  not  read  aloud  to 
Aunt  Margret ;  there  was  hardly  one  that  was  her  very  own. 

But  Oscar  made  up  for  every  deficiency  when  he  arrived 
himself,  and  on  the  day  when  he  came  with  a  hop,  skip,  and 
a  jump  into  the  sitting-room,  and  announced  that  he  was  to 
be  member  of  Althing,  she  saw  him  for  one  moment  great 
and  glorious,  like  the  top  of  a  mountain  when  it  has  broken 
through  the  mist  and  the  sun  has  flashed  on  to  it,  and  then 
she  said,  "  And  now  the  Bad  Boy  must  play  with  me — he 
hasn't  played  me  blindman's  buif  since  yesterday." 

Thora  was  too  happy  to  think  of  her  happiness,  but  she 
told  herself  sometimes  that  there  was  only  one  thing  wanted 
to  make  it  complete — that  Helga  should  come  home  to  share 
it.  She  broached  the  subject  to  Oscar,  but  it  was  at  a  mo- 
ment when  he  was  immersed  in  his  manifestoes,  and  he 
merely  said,  "  Good  idea !  Splendid !  Helga  looks  like  a 
stunner!  Send  for  her  certainly  if  the  Factor  approves," 
and  he  went  on  with  his  tiresome  politics. 

She  broached  it  next  to  Aunt  Margret,  who  was  less  en- 
couraging. Putting  her  spectacled  face  close  to  Thora's, 
she  shook  her  ringlets,  and  said,  "  Don't  be  a  ninny !  Two's 
company,  three's  none !  " 

But  Thora  mentioned  the  matter  to  Anna  also,  and  the 
motherly  old  thing  was  moved.  "  That  would  be  beautiful 
if  you  could  manage  it,  Thora,"  she  said,  "  and  if  it  should 
lead  to  bringing  the  others  together,  what  a  blessing  it 
would  be !  " 

After  that  Thora  regarded  herself  in  the  light  of  the  fam- 
ily peace-maker,  and  in  this  character  she  approached  her 
father.  The  Factor  listened  to  her  with  sympathy,  for  nature 
is  stronger  than  lawyer's  ink,  and  he  had  often  told  himself 
he  had  been  foolish  to  part  with  his  child.  "  Well,  I  don't  see 
why  she  shouldn't,"  he  said.  "  She  might  come  for  the  wed- 
ding— or,  say  for  a  year — one  year  at  all  events.  I'll  write 
to  the  lawyer  in  Denmark." 

By  the  same  mail  Thora  wrote  to  Helga : 

Dearest  Helga: — Father  is  writing  to  the  lawyer  to  ask 
him  to  send  you  back  to  Iceland.    It  is  only  for  a  year,  so 


THE   PRODIGAL    SON  69 

I  hope  mamma  will  not  object.  I  am  sure  you  will  not  when 
I  tell  you  what  is  to  happen.  There  is  to  be  a  wedding,  and, 
of  course,  a  party,  and  great  goings  on. 

Dear,  I  am  to  be  married  to  Oscar  Stephenson,  who  has 
come  back  from  England,  and  is  so  handsome  and  so  clever. 
If  you  could  see  him  as  he  is  now,  you  would  fall  in  love 
with  him  instantly,  but  he  is  so  fond  of  me,  and  I  am  so 
happy.  I  was  to  have  married  his  brother  Magnus,  but  the 
engagement  broke  down,  and  now  I  am  very  sorry  for  Mag- 
nus, and  if  ever  you  hear  anything  against  him  when  you 
come  home  you  are  not  to  believe  a  word  of  it,  because 
Magnus  is  as  good  as  gold,  only  I  could  not  care  for  him, 
so  it  was  no  use  trying. 

Dear,  there  are  such  lots  of  things  I  want  to  tell  you,  but 
I  must  save  them  until  you  come.  We  have  had  bad  trade 
this  Slimmer,  and  Oscar  has  gone  into  father's  business.  I 
am  weaving  a  web  of  cloth  for  father's  Christmas  suit,  but 
it  does  not  make  much  progress,  because  somebody  is  always 
interrupting,  and  when  you  are  about  to  be  married  there 
is  so  much  to  dc — isn't  there  ? 

Dearest  Helga,  I  have  no  more  to  write  about  now,  so 
give  my  love  to  mamma,  and  mind  you  come  before  long, 
for  the  wedding  may  be  soon,  although  nothing  is  fixed  yet.— - 
Your  affectionate  sister,  Thora. 

P.  S. — Come  quickly.  I  am  dying  to  introduce  you  to 
Oscar. 

A  fortnight  later  the  Factor  announced  that  he  had  heard 
from  the  lawyer  in  Denmark,  and  Helga  was  to  come  by  the 
next  steamer. 

"  The  *  Laura,'  and  she's  due  on  the  first  of  November,  and 
that's  the  day  of  the  election !  "  said  Oscar. 

"  What  a  good  omen !  "  said  Thora,  and  she  sang  her  Ice- 
land love  songs  all  that  evening  through,  for  she  was  very 
happy. 

n 

On  the  morning  of  the  day  when  the  "Laura"  was  due; 
there  was  no  sign  of  her  on  the  sea,  but  that  was  a  matter  of 
moment  only  to  Thora,  who  had  been  up  early  and  down  at 


70  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

the  jetty  before  breakfast.  The  rest  of  the  little  world  in 
which  she  lived  were  immersed  in  preparations  for  the  elec- 
tion and  were  going  about  like  dogs  on  the  leash  before  the 
hunt  begins.  Oscar  was  flying  to  and  fro  with  red  ribbons 
in  his  button-hole;  ponies  were  coming  and  going  with  red 
ribbons  in  their  bridles,  and  red  flags  were  hanging  all  over 
the  town ;  but,  nevertheless,  there  was  a  sense  of  uncertainty 
everj-where  and  an  atmosphere  of  intense  excitement. 

The  day  opened  dull  and  rayless,  with  a  pale  sun  behind 
a  slaty  sky  like  a  white  wafer  on  an  old  parchment.  An  hour 
before  the  polling  booths  opened  the  Governor  called  upon 
the  Factor,  under  pretense  of  his  morning's  walk,  and  said: 

"  I'm  doubtful  of  the  result,  Neilsen,  and  I  now  see  that 
Oscar  was  the  worst  possible  candidate  to  stand  for  our 
cause.  Everybody  who  has  a  grievance  against  the  Gov- 
ernor is  going  to  vote  against  the  Governor's  son,  and  every- 
body who  has  a  grievance  against  the  Factor  will  vote  against 
his  son-in-law." 

"  Oh,  I  know  the  people,  bless  them."  said  the  Factor. 
"  Master  when  you  want  anything — slave  when  you  don't. 
But  we'll  see,  Stei:)hen,  we'll  see !  " 

After  finishing  his  breakfast  comfortably  the  Factor 
walked  leisurely  to  his  counting-house  and  called  for  his 
ledger.  It  showed  that  nearly  half  of  the  electors  of  the 
town  were  indebted  to  him,  some  of  them  slightly,  others 
deeply,  and  not  a  few  beyond  hope  of  payment  without  pres- 
sure or  distraint.  He  counted  up  their  total  indebtedness, 
and  it  proved  to  be  frightful.  "But  life  is  precious  when 
death  is  at  the  door,"  he  thought,  and  lighting  his  long  Ger- 
man pipe,  he  put  the  leather-bound  book  under  his  arm  and 
strolled  quietly  across  to  the  polling-station. 

As  chairman  of  Oscar's  committee  the  Factor  had  a  right 
to  sit  inside  the  polling  booth,  but  he  merely  asked  to  be 
allowed  to  take  a  chair  outside  the  counter  to  which  the 
voters  would  come  up  when  they  recorded  their  votes.  "  A 
low  seat  is  often  easy,"  he  said,  sitting  with  his  face  to  the 
Sheriff  and  his  back  to  the  door. 

When  the  doors  were  opened  the  Factor  laid  his  ledger 
across  his  knees  and  took  out  a  thick  blue  pencil.  Then 
as  each  voter  came  up  to  the  counter  and  his  name  was  called 


THE    PKODIGAL    SON  71 

and  looked  up  in  the  register,  the  Factor  was  seen  to  turn  up 
the  voter's  account  in  his  own  book  and  hold  his  blue  pencil 
over  it. 

"  Whom  do  you  vote  for  ? "  asked  the  Sheriff,  "  Oscar 
Stephenson  or  Jon  Oddsson  ? "  and  if  the  voter  answered 
"  Oscar  Stephenson,"  the  blue  pencil  was  seen  to  descend  in 
two  broad  strokes  across  the  account  as  if  cancelling  it  al- 
together ;  but  if  he  answered  "  Jon  Oddsson,"  it  was  seen 
to  score  the  total  with  a  double  underline  as  if  marking  it 
for  immediate  recovery. 

The  opposition  had  entered  in  hot  haste,  but  the  effect 
was  instantaneous.  A  voter  would  come  swaggering  up  to 
the  counter,  call  his  name  in  a  robustious  voice,  and  then 
(while  waiting  for  the  verification  of  his  right  to  vote)  see 
the  Factor  sitting  below  with  his  own  account  open  before 
him,  and,  understanding  everything  in  a  moment,  would  be- 
gin to  answer  the  Sheriff  with  a  faltering,  "  Odd ,"  then 

pause,  tremble,  mumble  "  Stephenson,"  and  go  stumbling 
out  of  doors. 

Silently,  hour  after  hour,  from  the  beginning  of  the  day 
to  the  end  of  it,  the  Factor  sat  at  his  task,  never  once  looking 
up  from  his  ledger  and  apparently  doing  nothing  but  check- 
ing, as  he  had  a  right  to  do,  the  Sheriff's  record  of  the  votes. 
Aunt  Margret  came  to  say  that  dinner  was  ready,  but  he 
answered  that  he  was  not  hungry.  Toward  three  in  the 
sfternoon  Thora  arrived  in  great  excitement  to  say  that  the 
"  Laura  "  had  been  sighted  outside  the  head,  but  he  told  her 
to  meet  her  sister  herself,  and  tell  her  that  he  did  not  ex- 
pect to  be  home  before  midnight. 

When  the  cathedral  clock  struck  four  the  Sheriff  rose  and 
ordered  the  shutting  of  the  doors.  The  short  winter's  day 
had  closed  in  by  this  time,  and  while  the  counting  was  going 
on  with  its  monotonous  beat  in  the  silence  of  the  breathless 
room,  like  the  splashing  of  rain  on  the  pavement — "  Stephen- 
son, Stephenson,  Oddsson,  Stephenson " — the  Factor,  who 
had  lit  his  pipe,  was  pacing  the  corridor  outside,  like  a  man 
who  walks  in  his  orchard  when  the  fruit  is  ripe. 

When  the  counting  was  finished  the  Sheriff  told  the  at- 
tendants to  open  the  window,  and  then  the  deep  hum  of  a 
crowd  which  had  been  cheering  and  singing  outside,  with  a 


72  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

noise  like  the  waves  breaking  on  a  bar  far  off,  rose  to  a 
roar,  like  that  of  the  sea  running  up  a  stony  beach.  At  the 
next  moment  everybody  was  shaking  hands  with  Oscar,  a 
band  was  beginning  to  play  in  the  street,  and  the  Sheriff 
was  stepping  on  to  the  balcony. 

Meantime  Thora,  fluttering  with  excitement  of  another 
sort,  had  gone  down  to  the  jetty  to  meet  Helga.  As  soon  as 
the  "  Laura  "  had  steamed  up  the  fiord  and  cast  anchor  outside 
the  town,  she  put  off  in  her  father's  white  boat  and  drew  up 
alongside.  It  was  now  quite  dark,  but  lights  were  burning  on 
the  steamer  and  the  dark  figures  of  a  line  of  passengers 
were  silhouetted  against  the  sky  as  they  leaned  over  the  rail 
and  shouted  to  the  friends  in  little  boats  who  had  come  out 
to  meet  them.  Thora  was  sure  that  Helga  must  be  there, 
and  she  wanted  to  call  to  her,  but  her  heart  was  beating 
60  fast  that  her  voice  would  not  answer.  At  length  the  lad- 
der was  let  down,  and  Thora's  boat  swayed  up  to  it,  and 
then  she  climbed  up  the  steamer's  side. 

"  Helga !  " 

"  Miss  Helga  is  below,"  said  a  voice  out  of  th«  darkness, 
and  though  she  felt  a  pang  of  disappointment  that  Helga 
was  not  waiting,  she  ran  down  the  stairs  to  the  saloon.  At 
the  bottom  she  called  "  Helga "  again,  and  the  stewardess 
said: 

"  The  young  lady  is  in  her  cabin." 

"Which?" 

"  Second  to  the  left." 

Feeling  conscious  of  increasing  disappointment,  but  still 
panting  in  her  eagerness,  Thora  skipped  off  to  the  cabin, 
and  then  came  a  shock  of  surprise. 

Somehow  she  had  expected  to  find  Helga  a  little  thing, 
grown  certainly,  but  still  smaller  than  herself.  In  her 
dreams  of  their  first  meeting  she  had  pictured  herself  stoop- 
ing to  kiss  Helga,  and  then  in  a  sisterly-motherly  sort  of 
way  putting  her  arms  about  her  waist.  But  the  young  lady 
who  came  leisurely  out  of  the  cabin  with  her  veil  down  and 
buttoning  her  kid  gloves,  was  much  taller  than  Thora  and 
quite  dignified  and  stately. 

"  Thora !  "  said  the  girl. 

"  So  it  is  you— really  you  ?  "  said  Thora. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  73 

"  Really  me,"  laughed  Helga,  and  then  it  was  Helga  who 
stooped  to  kiss  Thora,  who  had  to  lift  up  her  face  to  her. 

Thora's  heart  was  in  her  mouth  in  both  senses.  She  looked 
at  Helga  again  by  the  dim  light  of  the  saloon  lamp,  and  felt 
herself  small  and  insignificant.  Ilelga  was  beautiful,  with 
fine  features,  large  gray  eyes  and  rich  dark  complexion,  and 
Thora  felt  herself  to  be  plain  and  commonplace.  Helga  was 
fashionably  dressed  in  the  Danish  manner,  with  the  soft  silk 
things  about  the  neck  and  bosom  which  give  charm  to  a 
charming  girl,  and  Thora  felt  herself  to  be  dowdy  and  coun- 
trified in  her  Iceland  hufa  and  stiff  velvet  cloak. 

"  Have  you  come  alone  ?  "  asked  Helga. 

"  Quite  alone,"  said  Thora. 

"  But  hasn't  father  come  with  you  ?  Or  Aunt  Margret  ? 
Or  that  wonderful  Oscar?     Is  there  nobody  but  you?" 

"  Nobody  but  me,"  said  Thora,  and  then,  though  she  felt 
crushed  and  small,  she  delivered  the  Factor's  message  and 
told  about  the  election. 

"  So  that  was  the  meaning  of  the  band  we  heard  as  we 
were  sailing  up  ? "  said  Helga,  and  at  the  first  moment 
Thora  thought  perhaps  Helga  had  hoped  it  was  in  honor 
of  her  own  arrival,  but  at  the  next  she  felt  ashamed  and 
foolish. 

"  We  might  as  well  go,  then,"  said  Helga,  and  she  swept 
up  the  stairs,  leaving  Thora  to  follow.  It  was  all  so  different 
from  what  Thora  had  expected — so  utterly  different — that 
she  would  have  given  anything  to  run  away  and  cry. 

But  going  ashore  in  the  boat,  she  sat  at  the  helm  side  by 
side  with  Helga,  and  there,  the  lights  being  gone,  and  Thora 
no  longer  in  awe  of  Helga's  fashion  and  beauty,  she  slipped 
her  arm  about  her  sister's  waist,  as  she  had  always  intended 
to  do,  and  after  that  they  got  on  better. 

When  they  touched  the  jetty  there  was  much  shouting 
and  scrambling  in  the  darkness,  and  Thora  was  nervous 
and  excited,  but  Helga  was  quiet  and  even  amused. 

"  No  carriages  in  this  benighted  country  yet,  I  suppose  ? " 
said  Helga. 

"  No,  but  I've  brought  Silvertop  to  take  you  up,"  said 
Thora. 

"  And  what  is  there  for  you  ?  " 
6 


74  THE    TRODIGAL    SON 

"  Oh,  I'll  walk— I  love  walking." 

The  street  at  the  top  of  the  jetty  was  thronged  with  the 
people  who  were  waiting  outside  the  polling  place  to  hear  the 
result  of  the  election,  and  when  the  girls  came  to  the  crowd, 
which  was  good-natured  but  boisterous,  they  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  plow  their  way  through  until  a  big  man  stepped 
before  them  and  swept  the  people  aside  like  ninepins. 

"  What  a  tremendous  creature  that  was,"  said  Helga.  "  He 
could  have  felled  an  ox,  I  fancy." 

"  But  didn't  you  know  him,  Helga  ?  It  was  Magnus  Ste- 
phenson," said  Thora. 

"Magnus?     Why  didn't  he  speak,  I  wonder?" 

They  had  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd  and  were 
crossing  in  front  of  the  polling  place  when  the  people  raised 
a  great  shout,  for  it  was  the  moment  when  the  Sheriff 
stepped  on  to  the  balcony. 

"  He's  going  to  declare  the  poll.  Shall  we  wait  ?  "  asked 
Thora. 

"  It  might  be  amusing,"  said  Helga. 

As  soon  as  there  was  silence  the  Sheriff  read  the  figures. 
Oscar  had  been  elected  by  three  votes  to  one.  At  this  there 
was  another  hurricane  of  cheers,  with  cries  of  "  Oscar ! " 
"  Oscar !  "  and  Thora  said : 

"  Oscar  will  come  next.     Shall  we  wait  and  see  him  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  It  will  be  good  fun,"  said  Helga,  and  in  the 
interval  Thora  patted  Silvertop  to  keep  him  quiet,  and  creep- 
ing closer  to  her  sister  squeezed  her  hand. 

Then  Oscar  came  bounding  on  to  the  balcony  amidst  a 
wild  breaker  of  applause,  and  behind  him  came  two  men 
bearing  torches,  so  that  his  figure  and  face  were  plainly 
visible  to  the  crowd  below — his  slight,  lithe  form,  his  fair 
hair  slightly  ruffled,  his  sparkling  eyes,  his  mobile  mouth 
and  the  never-failing  smile  that  captivated  everybody. 

It  was  thus  that  Helga  saw  him  for  the  first  time  since 
he  became  a  man,  and  her  face,  which  had  worn  a  playfvil 
expression,  became  grave. 

"  How  fine !  "  she  said. 

Thora  could  hardlj^  catch  the  words  over  the  sibilation 
of  the  running  cheers,  but  she  said : 

"  He  will  speak — shall  we  wait  to  hear  him  ?  " 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  75 

"Assuredly,"  said  Ilelga,  and  when  Oscar  began  with 
"  Fellow  townsmen  and  fellow  countrymen,"  Thora  felt 
Helga's  hand  shiver  and  heard  her  say,  "  The  same  voice !  " 

Oscar's  speech  was  punctuated  by  applause  at  the  end  of 
every  sentence,  and  when  it  was  finished,  and  the  speaker 
and  the  men  with  the  torches  had  disappeared,  Thora  spoke 
to  Helga  again,  but  she  answered  at  random,  and  sat  in 
her  saddle  like  one  in  a  dream. 

Somebody  else  came  on  to  the  balcony  and  had  a  mixed 
reception. 

"It  must  be  father,"  said  Thora,  and  then  the  Factor's 
voice,  utterly  indifferent  to  hostile  interruptions,  was  heard 
to  say  that  a  supper  had  been  prepared  at  the  hotel  for 
the  committee  of  the  successful  candidate,  and  they  were  to 
go  there  at  once — the  new  member  would  follow  presently. 

With  that  the  crowd  broke  up,  and  the  girls  went  their 
way — Thora  clinging  closer  than  ever  to  her  sister,  for  her 
heart  was  warm  with  love  and  pride. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "what  did  you  think  of  him?" 

"Think  of  him?  Oscar?"  said  Helga.  She  laughed  un- 
comfortably, and  then  stooped  from  the  saddle  and  whis- 
pered : 

"  Only  to  think  that  a  little  thing  like  you,  dear,  should 
capture  a  man  like  that !  " 

Thora  laughed  also,  but  she  hardly  knew  whether  she  was 
pleased  or  hurt.  A  sudden  chill  had  struck  her.  It  was 
like  the  breath  of  the  mountain  snow  which  sometimes  comes 
down  in  summer. 

Ill 

The  gods  of  riot  were  playing  so  hard  a  game  with  Thora 
that  she  was  in  a  fever  to  introduce  Oscar  to  Helga,  and 
when  he  did  not  appear  by  noon  of  the  following  day  she  sent 
a  letter  across  to  Government  House  to  order  him  to  come 
forthwith.  The  "  Bad  Boy  "  was  too  full  of  his  silly  politics, 
while  there  was  something  far  more  charming  and  absorbing 
■waiting  for  him  there.  But  an  answer  came  back  from  Anna 
to  say  that  Oscar  was  still  asleep,  and  after  the  excitement 
of  the  day  before,  and  the  late  hour  of  the  previous  night, 
ahe  was  unwilling  to  waken  him. 


76  THE    PEODIGAL    SON 

Early  In  the  afternoon  Anna  herself  came  over  expecting 
to  see  the  first-fruits  of  the  peace-making,  and,  while  Aunt 
Margret  was  below  stairs  preparing  chocolate  for  the  com- 
pany that  was  expected,  the  motherly  old  thing  tried  various 
artful  ways  of  finding  out  from  lielga  what  her  upbringing 
had  been  in  Denmark,  and,  particularly,  what  religious  in- 
struction and  society  her  mother  had  given  her.  Helga  saw 
through  the  device  in  a  moment,  and  with  her  red  lips  a 
little  awry  she  painted  an  alarming  picture  of  theaters  and 
concert-halls,  and  a  flat  in  Copenhagen  frequented  by  actors 
and  actresses,  especially  on  Sunday  evenings,  where  every- 
body, including  the  ladies,  smoked  cigarettes  and  drank 
brandy. 

Meanwhile  Thora  watched  for  Oscar  out  of  the  sidelight 
of  the  projecting  window,  and  as  soon  as  she  saw  him  swing- 
ing down  the  road,  she  darted  into  the  hall  and  threw  her- 
self into  his  arms  and  kissed  him,  whereupon,  with  his  head 
full  of  his  victory,  he  said : 

"  Congratulations,  eh  ?  The  sweetest  I've  had  yet,"  and 
pushed  through  toward  the  drawing-room. 

"  Wait,  wait,  wait !    Somebody  to  show  you !  "  cried  Thora. 

Then  the  poor  victim  of  God  knows  what  maleficent  pow- 
ers— not  knowing  what  she  did,  but  laughing  merrily  as  if 
a  song-bird  had  been  imprisoned  in  her  throat — began  to 
play  the  old  familiar  trick  of  children;  standing  behind 
Oscar  on  tip-toe  in  order  to  reach,  she  put  her  hands  over  his 
eyes,  and  crying,  "Forward,  soldier!"  marched  him  blind- 
fold into  the  drawing-room  and  up  to  the  place  where  Helga 
was  waiting.  Then,  removing  her  hands  sharply,  she  cried, 
"  There !  "  and  stood  off  to  see  the  effect. 

Oscar  found  himself  face  to  face  with  a  girl  as  unlike 
Thora  as  could  be,  tall,  dark,  with  hair  parted  at  the  side 
and  hanging  over  the  forehead,  dressed  in  a  light  silk  blouse 
and  silver-grey  skirt,  and  having  an  odor  of  violets  about 
her. 

"Helga!    Can  it  be  possible?" 

He  stretched  out  his  hand  and  Helga  took  it,  and  held  it, 
and  so  they  stood  for  some  moments,  while  Thora,  breathing 
rapidly,  watched  the  changing  lights  in  their  faces:  in  Os- 
car's, astonishment,  admiration,  and  rapture:    in  Helga's, 


THE    PEODIGAL    SON  77 

curiosity,  satisfaction,  and  delight.  And  Thora's  own  face, 
too — to  the  pitying  angels  who  alone  were  looking  at  it — 
showed  expressions  just  as  various :  pride,  joy,  then  uneasi- 
ness, and  finally  a  little  twinge  of  secret  pain. 

To  relieve  this  feeling,  Thora  burst  into  laughter,  and 
then  everybody  laughed,  and  Aunt  Margret  came  into  the 
room  with  the  chocolate  and  cakes. 

"So  you've  brought  them  together  again,  Thora?"  said 
Aunt  Margret,  and  Thora  swallowed  a  lump  in  her  throat 
and  answered,  "  Yes." 

Then  Oscar  and  Helga  went  over  to  the  window  and  talked 
together  with  great  animation.  Thora  heard  snatches  of 
their  conversation  as  she  carried  round  the  cups.  It  was 
about  things  of  which  she  knew  nothing — Denmark,  Copen- 
hagen, England,  London,  Oxford,  the  English  theater,  the 
Danish  theater,  and,  above  all,  music,  music,  music. 

"  How  well  they  get  along,"  said  Thora. 

"  Trust  them  for  that,"  said  Aunt  Margret. 

Toward  dusk  the  Factor  returned  home — not  having  al- 
tered his  habit  of  work  by  a  hair's  breadth ;  and  then  came 
half  the  great  people  of  the  town — the  Bishop,  the  Sheriff, 
the  Rector  of  the  Latin  School,  and  finally  the  Governor. 
Helga  moved  among  them  with  the  quiet  ease  of  one  ac- 
customed to  company.  Within  an  hour  she  had  captured  all 
the  men,  but  the  women  were  less  sure  of  her. 

"  The  minute  I  set  eyes  on  her,"  whispered  Aunt  Mar- 
gret to  Anna,  "  I  said  to  myself,  '  Thora  is  a  Neilsen  out 
and  out,  but  there's  more  of  the  stranger  in  this  one.'  " 

"  She's  the  living  picture  of  what  my  wife  was  when  I 
saw  her  first,"  said  the  Factor  in  a  low  tone  to  the  Gov- 
ernor, who  answered  significantly,  in  the  same  low  tone : 

"  Then  I  don't  wonder,  old  friend — I  say  I  don't  wonder !  " 

"  Helga's  head  and  youi's  were  nearer  together  when  I 
laid  my  hand  on  them  last,"  said  the  Bishop  to  Thora.  "  Take 
care!    Your  sister  is  running  away  from  you,  little  one." 

"Isn't  she?"  said  Thora. 

Thora  did  not  feel  quite  so  happy  in  Helga's  visit  as 
she  had  expected,  but  still  struggling  to  show  her  off,  she 
asked  her  to  play  something  on  the  piano — she  had  played 
after  breakfast  and  it  was  beautiful. 


78  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

Helga  played  brilliantly,  and  Oscar,  wlio  turned  over 
her  music,  applauded  her  boisterously. 

"  And  now  Oscar  ought  to  play  something,"  said  the  Gov- 
ernor. "  From  his  earliest  years  he  made  us  conceive  the 
highest  hopes  that  he  might  become  a  great  musician." 

"  He  will,  too — my  son  Neils  at  the  College  of  Music  says 
he  will,"  said  the  Sheriff. 

"  Nonsense !  "  said  the  Factor.  "  Oscar  has  something 
better  to  do  now  than  to  scrape  catgut  or  blow  his  lungs 
through  a  steam-jjipe." 

"  Still,  an  occasional  flirtation  with  the  muses,"  said  the 
Rector,  "  you  wouldn't  object  to  that.  Factor?  " 

"  I  would  object  to  flirtations  of  all  sorts,"  said  the  Fac- 
tor, "  and  I  should  think  the  man  a  fool  who  put  himself  ia 
the  way  of  them." 

"  Surprising  how  many  men  do,"  said  the  Governor  with 
a  wink  at  the  Rector.  "  Would  you  believe  it — a  certain, 
friend  of  yours  wrote  a  poem  in  the  days  of  his  youth !  " 

"  Never ! "  cried  the  Rector,  and  while  the  old  people 
laughed,  the  Factor  said : 

"  When  I  was  a  child  I  behaved  as  a  child,  but  when  I  be- 
came a  man  I  put  away  childish  things." 

"  Well,  I  so  far  agree  with  the  Factor  that  I  think  a  maD 
can't  have  his  heart  in  two  places  at  once,"  said  the  Gov* 
ernor.    "  What  do  you  say,  Thora  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  not,"  said  Thora. 

"  Certainly  not,  any  more  than  a  man  can  love  two  women 
at  the  same  time,"  said  the  Governor;  and  then  Oscar  began 
to  play. 

He  played  as  the  bird  sings  because  the  song  is  in  the  soul 
of  it,  and  when  he  had  finished,  the  company  cheered  him 
lustily,  and  Helga,  putting  her  face  close  to  his,  said  in  a 
whisper : 

"  And  you  asked  me  to  play — I  who  only  play  as  I  am 
taught,  and  you  can  play  like  that !  " 

Oscar  was  delighted  with  Helga's  praises  and  suggested 
that  they  should  play  together.  They  played  a  difficult  selec- 
tion, full  of  flourishes,  and  the  company  declared  thex  had 
never  heard  anything  like  it. 

"  Wonderful,  wasn't  it  ?  "  said  somebody. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  79 

"  Yes,  wasn't  it?  "  said  Thora. 

She  was  feeling  utterly  eclipsed  and  forgotten  when  Helga 
wheeled  round  on  the  music-stool  and  said: 

"  And  now  Thora  must  give  us  something  on  her  guitar — 
Aunt  Margret  says  she  plays  it  beautifully." 

"  Indeed  she  does — beautifully  !  "  said  Aunt  Margret. 

But  Thora  begged  ofP  in  alarm,  saying,  "  No,  indeed,  no ! 
I  couldn't  possibly  play  after  playing  like  that." 

So  Oscar  and  Helga  began  again.  This  time  it  was  an 
English  ballad.  Helga  played  the  accompaniment,  and  Os- 
car sang  the  air,  and  there  was  a  chorus  which  they  gave 
together.  The  company  were  completely  carried  away. 
"  Charming  !  "  "  Exquisite !  "  "  But  how  well  their  voices 
harmonize !  "  "  They  might  have  been  meant  by  nature  to 
go  together ! " 

"  Might  they  not  ?  "  said  Thora. 

"  But  now  Thora  ought  really  to  play  her  guitar,"  said 
Helga. 

"  Certainly !  Thora  and  her  guitar,"  said  Oscar.  "  And 
let  her  sing  one  of  her  Iceland  love  songs  to  it." 

It  was  cruel,  it  was  heart-breaking,  it  was  almost  as  if 
Helga  were  trying  to  humiliate  her,  as  if  Oscar  were  joining 
her,  as  if  they  were  conspiring  together  to  expose  her  in- 
feriority. 

"  No,  no,  don't  ask  me,  please  don't,"  she  pleaded. 

But  Helga  continued  to  ask  and  Oscar  to  second  her,  and 
being  able  to  bear  the  strain  no  longer,  Thora  burst  into 
tears,  and  fled  from  the  room. 

"  How  extraordinary !  "  said  Helga. 

But  Oscar  followed  Thora  and  coaxed  and  comforted  her 
and  brought  her  back  with  a  smile  on  her  face,  although  the 
tears  were  scarcely  dry  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  was  silly,"  she  said.  "  I  don't  know  what  came  over 
me." 

"  Perhaps  it  was  the  heat,"  said  the  Governor,  and  he 
opened  one  of  the  windows. 


so  THE    PEODIGAL    SON 


IV 

During  the  next  month  Oscar  was  every  day  and  nearly 
all  day  at  the  Factor's,  to  the  total  disregard  of  his  public 
work  and  the  complete  neglect  of  business.  But  his  visits 
were  not  always  to  Thora,  who  was  ceasing  to  be  "  Baby 
Thora  "  either  to  him  or  to  any  one,  and  becoming  a  serious 
little  figure  with  a  wistful  face.  She  never  romped  about  the 
house  now,  but  sat  in  a  comer  with  a  ball  of  wool  in  her  lap 
and  a  crochet  hook  in  her  hand  while  Oscar  and  Helga 
played  the  piano  and  talked  music. 

It  was  music,  music,  always  music  at  the  Factor's  in  those 
days.  Early  in  her  visit  Helga  brought  down  a  pile  of  the 
music  of  Wagner,  and  Oscar  was  completely  carried  away 
by  it.  Other  composers  produced  beautiful  harmonies,  a 
subtle  and  clever  combination  of  sweet  sounds,  but  when 
Oscar  played  Wagner,  the  piano  seemed  to  him  to  waken  and 
weep,  to  burn  the  flame  under  his  fingers. 

"  It's  glorious !  "  he  would  say.  "  I  can  never  thank  you 
enough,  Helga.    It's  a  new  world,  a  new  revelation." 

Helga  had  heard  of  Oscar's  songs  from  the  Sagas,  and  one 
day  she  said,  "  I  wonder  you  don't  try  to  compose  something- 
yourself,  Oscar — something  in  the  style  of  Wagner — I'm  sure 
you  could." 

Then  with  diffidence  and  apologies  Oscar  produced  his 
'prentice  efforts,  and  Helga  praised  them  enthusiastically. 
"  Do  you  know  you  are  a  born  musician  ?  "  she  said.  "  And 
you  should  never  do  anything  except  create  music — never !  " 

Oscar  was  intoxicated  by  her  applause,  but  he  only  laughed 
and  said, 

"  Ah,  that's  impossible." 

"  Why  impossible  ?  " 

"  Parliament — public   duties — and  so  forth." 

"  But,  my  dear  Oscar,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  are  going 
to  waste  your  life  like  that  ?  " 

"  Do  you  call  it  waste,  Helga  ? " 

"Not  for  everybody — not  for  a  man  like  Magnus,  for 
example — but  for  you,  yes,"  said  Helga,  and  then,  with  ir- 
resistible drollery,  she  mimicked  the  manners  of  Parliament, 


THE    PRODIGAL    SOX  81 

with  its  "  Mr.  Speaker,  permit  me  to  rise  to  a  point  of  order," 
and  "  Will  the  honorable  and  learned  member  explain,"  and 
all  the  other  inanities  of  a  legislative  assembly  in  a  little 
country. 

Oscar  laughed  until  tears  (from  more  springs  than  one) 
began  to  roll  down  his  cheeks,  and  then  he  said — 

"  What  an  actress  you  would  make,  Helga !  But  prin- 
ciples, my  dear  girl,  principles  are  the  soul  of  politics,  and 
if  a  man  can  guide  his  country  in  the  higher  paths,  he  can 
afford  to  forget  the  plains — don't  you  think  so,  Thora  ?  " 

And  Thora,  who  had  been  feeling  dizzy  and  faint,  answered 
in  a  helpless  way,  "  Yes,  Oscar.  But  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that 
father  wished  to  see  you  on  business." 

"  Business !  "  cried  Helga.    "  That,  too !  " 

"  Then  you  object  to  business  also  ?  "  asked  Oscar. 

"  For  you — certainly,  because  you  are  not  fit  for  it,"  said 
Helga.  "  And  if  you  go  into  business  you'll  be  like  a  man 
who  has  married  the  wrong  woman.  She  may  be  an  ex- 
cellent, thrifty  soul,  quite  suitable  to  somebody  else,  but 
she  was  never  meant  for  him." 

"  There's  something  in  that,  though  it's  wonderful  how 
you  know  it,"  said  Oscar.  "  I'm  about  the  silliest  beggar  at 
a  bargain  that  ever  breathed  out  of  an  oyster  shell." 

"  Of  course  you  are,  Oscar — you  must  be.  Xow,  if  Mag- 
nus had  gone  into  business  he  might  have  got  something 
out  of  it.  But  you — what  in  the  world  do  you  expect  to 
get?" 

"  Ah,  now  you're  wrong,  Helga !  I  have  got  something 
out  of  it  already — I've  got  Thora !  " 

"Thora?" 

"  Didn't  you  know  ?  Thora  was  the  prize  I  was  bidding  for 
when  I  took  over  that  contract." 

"  So  that  was  it — was  it  ?  "  said  Helga ;  and  then  Thora 
herself,  feeling  sick  and  ill,  gathered  up  her  work  and  stole 
out  of  the  room. 

Nevertheless  the  seed  which  Helga  had  sown  had  not 
fallen  on  stony  ground.  Within  twenty-four  hours  Oscar 
appeared  with  a  new  composition  in  his  hands. 

"  An  idea  came  to  me  last  night  and  I  had  to  get  it  off," 
lie  said,  and  then  he  sat  down  to  the  piano  and  played. 


82  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  Beautiful !  "  cried  Helga.  "  Really  beautiful !  But  this 
subject  suggests  the  organ — why  not  set  it  to  that,  and  try  it 
on  the  organ  in  the  cathedral?" 

"  Splendid  idea !  "  said  Oscar.  "  Thora  knows  the  curator 
and  can  get  the  key.    What  do  you  say,  Thora?  " 

"  If  you  would  like  to,"  said  Thora,  and  next  day  they 
carried  out  their  scheme. 

Oscar  and  Helga  sat  together  in  the  organ  loft,  while 
Thora  was  sent  down  the  communion  steps  to  report  the  ef- 
fect at  a  distance.  "  How  did  that  go,  Thora  ?  "  cried  Oscar, 
once  or  twice  at  the  beginning,  and  Thora  answered,  "  Very 
nicely,  I  think,"  but  then  the  two  in  the  organ  loft  forgot 
her  altogether  in  the  rapture  of  their  rehearsal. 

During  the  next  two  or  three  weeks  Oscar  and  Helga 
went  to  the  cathedral  every  day,  and  sometimes  Thora  went 
with  them,  but  more  frequently  she  remained  at  home.  A 
sudden  wave  of  energy  seemed  to  lift  Oscar  out  of  himself, 
and  he  produced  one  composition  after  another.  Helga 
applauded  all  of  them,  and  her  praises  intoxicated  him  like 
glory. 

"  I  can  never  be  sufficiently  gi'ateful  to  you,  Helga,"  he 
said,  "  for  all  the  good  things  you  have  poured  out  on  me 
since  you  came  back  to  Iceland.  You  have  given  my  life  a 
new  joy,  a  new  splendor!  " 

"  Nonsense !  "  said  Helga.  "  I  am  nothing  but  a  voice  ta 
awaken  your  genius.  You  were  born  to  create  music,  and 
whatever  happens  you  must  never,  never  throw  away  a  life 
which  has  the  glory  of  a  future  like  that." 

To  this,  and  such  as  this,  he  always  answered  "  Ah,  no !  *^ 
or  "  Impossible !  "  or  "  It's  past  praying  for,"  but  Helga'j 
words  were  as  the  very  incense  of  the  dreams  which,  iii 
vaguer  forms,  he  had  been  trying  to  forget  since  the  day 
he  engaged  himself  to  Thora. 

"  Why  shouldn't  there  be  another  Wagner,  an  Icelandic* 
Wagner,  a  Wagner  with  a  still  grander  scene  and  stili 
greater  stories — the  Sagas  and  Eddas  of  this  stern  old  land  ?  "' 

About  a  month  after  Helga  returned  to  Iceland  she  sug- 
gested to  Oscar  that  he  should  write  an  anthem  on  a  passage 
which  she  selected  from  one  of  the  Sagas.  It  was  that  in 
which  the  old  gods  of  the  Pagan  world,  in  anger  with  the 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  83 

family  of  man  for  permitting  the  establishment  of  Chris- 
tianity, tore  open  the  bowels  of  their  fruitful  valleys  with 
earthquakes,  and  deluged  them  with  molten  lava,  and  how 
Christ  came  through  the  chaos  saying,  "  Let  there  be  peace !  " 

"Great!  Glorious!  A  stunning  subject!  But  can  I  do 
it? "  said  Oscar. 

"  You  can,  you  must,"  said  Ilelga,  and  from  that  moment 
a  continual  fever  burned  in  Oscar's  blood  until  the  task  was 
done.  Thora  saw  nothing  of  him  for  days,  except  when 
he  boimded  in  to  run  over  a  part  of  his  score  with  Helga, 
and  then  away,  without  a  word,  to  his  work  again.  When 
the  anthem  was  written  and  he  was  ready  to  try  it  on  the 
organ,  he  said: 

"  Are  you  coming  across  to  the  cathedral  to-day,  Thora  ? 
No?  Perhaps  you  had  better  not.  We'll  have  to  go  over 
the  thing  again  and  again — it  might  be  tiresome." 

It  was  the  afternoon  of  a  dull  week-day  in  the  early  win- 
ter, and  some  of  the  dreary  noises  of  the  work-a-day  world 
followed  Oscar  into  the  cathedral.  A  vessel  was  unloading 
in  the  fiord — he  could  hear  the  rumble  of  the  iron  trolleys 
as  they  rolled  up  the  paved  jetty  to  the  Factor's  warehouse. 
A  new  house  was  being  erected  on  the  comer  of  the  cathe- 
dral square — he  could  hear  the  thin  clank  of  the  mason's 
trowel.  A  steamer  was  on  the  stocks  in  the  shipyard  down 
the  harbor — ^he  could  hear  the  sharp  beat  of  the  rivetei^s 
hammer. 

But  there  was  another  atmosphere  in  the  cathedral,  and 
Oscar  floated  on  it  as  on  a  flood — the  silent  sanctuary,  the 
rows  of  empty  pews  going  up  to  the  chancel,  the  empty 
pulpit  with  its  sounding-board,  the  empty  altar  with  the 
Eastern  subject  painted  above  it,  the  marble  font  for  the 
baptism  of  future  generations,  the  marble  monuments  to 
the  memory  of  past  ones,  and  then  the  listening  air,  awa- 
kened by  a  whisper  or  a  footfall,  and  full  of  the  breath  of 
dead  prayer  and  vanished  praise. 

In  this  atmosphere  of  art  and  religion  Oscar  sat  down 
at  the  organ,  with  Ilelga  by  his  side,  to  try  his  anthem  for 
the  first  time.  The  organ  throbbed  under  his  fingers,  the 
empty  cathedral  shook  like  a  sea-cave  under  the  boom  of  his 
waves  of  sound,  and  when  he  came  to  the  end  of  his  first 


84  THE    TRODIGAL    SON 

reading  he  was  quivering  with  excitement  and  Helga  was  in 
a  fever. 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  she  said.  "Was  I  not  right? 
Oh,  if  this  could  be  heard  in  Denmark !  " 

"  Or  in  England !  "  said  Oscar. 

They  played  the  piece  again  and  again,  and  at  every 
fresh  playing  their  excitement  increased  until  it  reached 
the  point  of  hysteria,  and  their  voices  in  that  silent  place 
became  as  shrill  as  the  wind  on  the  mountain  top.  At  last 
they  tried  the  words,  and  then  their  emotion  knew  no  limit. 

The  organ  trembled  and  throbbed  again,  and  then  on  the 
top  of  all  other  sounds  came  the  sound  of  Helga's  voice,  like 
a  human  cry  above  the  thundering  waves  of  nature,  some- 
times weeping,  sometimes  raging,  sometimes  crouching, 
sometimes  springing  out  of  the  surge,  and  finally  sinking 
down  to  the  soft  whisper  of  "  Let  there  be  peace !  " 

When  the  anthem  was  over  and  all  was  still,  Oscar  sat 
quiet  for  some  moments  while  the  unheard  echo  of  the  music 
seemed  to  roll  through  the  silent  air ;  and  then  the  lightning- 
flash  of  joy  or  madness  which  comes  to  every  man  of  genius 
once  in  his  life  came  to  him  also,  and  his  heart  cried  out, 
in  its  delirious  happiness,  "  I,  too,  am  a  great  composer !  " 

In  the  intoxication  of  that  moment,  Oscar's  hand  swung 
down  and  took  Helga's  hand  and  held  it,  and  their  fingers 
trembled  together  and  they  seemed  to  hear  the  beating  of 
each  other's  heart.  They  looked  at  each  other,  and  his  eyes 
were  bloodshot  and  hers  were  wet. 

"  Plelga !  "  he  cried. 

"  Oscar !  "  she  answered,  but  at  the  next  moment  a  window 
blew  open  on  the  staircase  to  the  organ  loft  and  Oscar  heard 
again  the  dreary  noises  of  the  work-a-day  world  without — 
the  rumble  of  the  iron  trolleys,  the  thin  clank  of  the 
mason's  trowel,  and  the  quick  beat  of  the  riveter's  hammer. 
It  was  like  the  wakening  of  a  prisoner  in  his  cell  when 
the  warder  beats  at  the  door  and  the  dream  of  glory  is  gone 
and  the  prison  walls  close  round  him  again. 

Oscar's  fingers  slackened,  and  the  next  moment  he  heard 
Helga's  rapid  breathing  behind  him,  and  her  voice  saying 
with  a  strange  bitterness: 

"IsthatThora?" 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  85 

He  started  and  turned.    "  Where  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Do\\^i  there  by  the  communion  steps — by  the  altar.  No, 
I  was  mistaken.    It's  only  a  shadow.    The  light  is  fading." 

Then  with  the  same  bitterness  she  said,  "  But  I  suppose 
she  will  be  there  soon,  and  you  with  her." 

Oscar  shuddered  as  if  a  wounded  artery  had  been  torn 
open,  and  Helga  continued : 

"  Then  you  will  go  back  to  business,  and  Oscar — Oscar 
Stephenson,  the  musician — will  be  dead." 

He  fingered  the  organ  stops  fumblingly,  and  made  no  re- 
ply, whereupon  Helga,  with  undisguised  irony,  began  to  pic- 
ture the  dull  routine  of  the  business  life  that  was  waiting 
for  him  after  marriage — its  calculations  of  discounts,  its 
squabbles  with  farmers,  its  buying  and  selling  of  pots  and 
pans. 

"  It  is  such  a  pity,"  she  said. 

"  Don't  torture  me,  Helga,"  he  cried. 

"  But  is  there  no  way  out  of  it  ? " 

"  No,  no,  no !  " 

"No  way  at  all,  Oscar?" 

"  Let  us  go,"  he  said,  and  he  had  got  down  to  the  door 
before  he  remembered  that  he  had  left  his  hat  behind  him 
in  the  organ  loft. 

Thora  had  tea  ready  when  they  got  back  to  the  Factor's. 
She  was  kneeling  before  a  cozy  fire,  making  toast,  after  cut- 
ting the  bread  and  butter,  and  she  looked  up  at  them  as  they 
entered  with  a  nervous,  questioning,  tearful  smile. 

"  Poor  little  soul !  She  must  never  know — ^never,  never !  " 
thought  Oscar. 


Thora  knew  already,  and  the  big  heart  in  her  little  breast 
was  breaking.  She  had  begun  to  think  that  what  had  hap- 
pened to  Magnus  when  Oscar  came  back  was  now  happening 
to  her — Oscar  was  falling  in  love  with  Helga,  and  she,  like 
Magnus,  was  being  left  alone. 

Yet  she  could  not  reconcile  herself  to  this  suspicion  with- 
out a  hard  battle,  and  the  first  skirmish  of  the  sweet  heart 
was  to  fight  for  the  enemy — Oscar  had  made  a  great,  great 


86  THE    mODIGAL    SON 

sacrifice  ■when  he  agreed  to  marry  her;  it  was  not  to  be 
wondered  at  if  he  had  spasms  of  regret  sometimes.  She 
hinted  as  much  to  Aunt  Margret  in  one  of  the  long  hours  in 
which  they  were  left  together. 

"  Don't  you  think  that  Oscar  was  very  unselfish  when  he 
signed  that  contract  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Unselfish  ?  I  don't  call  it  unselfishness  to  sign  yourself 
into  a  fortune,"  said  Aunt  Margret. 

"  But  he  had  to  take  up  the  business,  you  know." 

"  Certainly  he  had — the  best  business  in  Iceland." 

"  Helga  seems  to  think  it  is  a  little  beneath  him.  Aunt 
Margret." 

^'  It's  good  enough  for  Helga's  father,  and  he  made  it. 
Besides,  Oscar  had  nothing  else,  and  an  ugly  sheep  is  better 
than  no  mutton." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  had  his  music,  auntie,  and  Helga  thinks  that 
was  a  good  deal." 

"  Does  she,  indeed  ?  People  who  are  naked  needn't  go 
about  mending  other  people's  clothes.  Oscar's  music 
wouldn't  have  brought  him  a  penny  of  profit,  and  as  for 
honor — what  about  Althing,  and  all  the  other  things  he 
couldn't  have  got  without  being  rich?" 

"  So  you  don't  think  Oscar  sacrificed  himself  very  much 
when  he  signed  the  contract  ?  " 

"  Sacrificed  himself  ?  Perhaps  the  boot  was  on  the  other 
leg,  if  you  ask  me." 

Thora  was  happy  for  days  after  this  interview,  and  while 
Oscar  and  Helga  played  their  Wagner,  she  went  about  the 
house  singing  her  little  love  ditties,  and  thinking  of  the 
time  when  Parliament  would  begin  its  session,  and  Oscar 
would  throw  himself  into  politics,  and  become  Speaker,  and 
perhaps  Governor,  and  it  would  all  come  of  having  mar- 
ried her. 

But  it  was  hard  to  sit  for  hours  in  the  same  room  with 
people  who  were  scarcely  conscious  of  her  presence,  and 
though  Thora  tried  to  hide  her  pain  lest  Oscar  should  feel 
ashamed,  she  sometimes  felt  bitter  about  Ilelga,  and  wanted 
to  burst  out  on  her.  The  only  thing  which  restrained  her 
from  doing  so  was  a  sweet  doubt  which  she  cherished  in 
the  most   secret  chamber   of   her   heart   that   perhaps   she 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  87 

was  mistaken  after  all,  and  Oscar  did  not  really  care  for 
Helga. 

"  Auntie,"  she  said,  "  don't  you  think  it's  silly  to  be  jeal- 
ous?" 

"  Depends  upon  circumstances,  Thora." 

"  If  a  wife — for  example — fancies  her  husband  is  paying 
too  much  attention  to  another  woman — don't  you  think  she 
is  silly  to  be  jealous  ?  " 

"  She's  silly  to  show  she  is,  my  precious.  It  doesn't  pre- 
vent the  sting  to  bite  the  head  off  the  serpent,  and  if  a  wife 
shows  the  husband  she's  jealous,  she's  just  doing  what  the 
other  woman  wants." 

"  So  you  think  she  ought  to  be  quiet  and  say  nothing  ? " 

"  Certainly,  I  do.  If  the  man  is  going  to  run  away  from 
her,  she  had  better  let  him  run,  and  if  he  isn't,  he'll  be  the 
more  ashamed  because  he  thinks  she  doesn't  know." 

"  You  mean  that  if  the  man  is  only  fascinated  for  a 
time " 

"  Just  so !  Fascination  may  be  good  enough  for  a  flirta- 
tion, but  it's  like  bright  metal — it  soon  gets  tarnished  in  a 
damp  cellar.    You  want  gold  for  the  dark  places,  my  honey." 

"  That  is  to  say,  auntie  dear,  that  love  is  the  only  thing 
for  married  life  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  so,  indeed,  with  its  crosses  and  disap- 
pointments, and  children  and  croup,  and  all  the  rest  of  it. 
And  when  it  comes  to  marrying,  the  silliest  of  the  men 
know  that,  bless  them !  " 

"  What  a  lot  you  know  about  the  men,  auntie  darling — I 
wonder  you  never  married,  yourself,  dear." 

"  That's  why,  my  precious  !  " 

It  was  easier  for  Thora  to  veil  her  agonies  with  smiles 
after  this  conversation.  She  pictured  to  herself  the  time 
when  her  love  would  be  everything  to  Oscar.  In  the  secret 
places  of  her  soul  she  thought  of  the  days  when  children 
would  come,  and  perhaps  even  sickness,  and  they  would  be 
drawn  close — so  close — together,  because  the  dear  clouds  of 
life  hung  over  both  of  them.  She  was  not  beautiful,  she 
was  only  a  homely  and  humble  little  thing,  she  was  unworthy 
of  Oscar,  and  there  were  so  many  things  in  which  she  was 
inferior,  but  oh,  her  love  was  wonderful!    Nothing  in  the 


88  THE    PEODIGAL    SON 

world  was  so  wonderful  as  her  love.  It  would  work  miracles, 
it  would  be  stronger  than  death,  it  would  stand  by  Oscar  to 
the  end. 

But  all  the  same  it  was  hard  to  receive  her  wounds  with- 
out a  cry,  and  when  Oscar  and  Helga  went  off  to  the  cathe- 
dral and  left  her  at  home  she  told  herself  she  was  too 
ignorant  to  be  Oscar's  wife,  and  all  her  sweet,  heroic  love 
was  wasted. 

"  Don't  you  think  Helga  is  very  clever.  Aunt  Margret  ?  " 

Aunt  Margret  lifted  her  eyes  from  her  knitting,  and 
blinked  through  her  spectacles. 

"  Clever  ? — a  girl  who  can't  dam  a  stocking  or  boil  a 
potato !  " 

"  But  see  how  she  can  talk,  auntie." 

"  So  can  the  parrot,  my  dear,  and  the  raven  is  seldom 
sparing  of  his  voice  either." 

"  But  surely  a  man  wants  his  wife  to  be  a  companion, 
auntie — to  be  able  to  converse  with  him  on  the  subjects  he 
is  interested  in,  and  to  criticise  his  work,  perhaps." 

"  Does  he  ?  Perhaps  he  does,  but  it  would  be  a  crazy 
creature  of  a  man  who  would  rather  marry  a  critic  than 
a  cook  for  all  that." 

Always  after  this  Thora  had  tea  ready  when  Oscar  and 
Helga  returned  from  the  cathedral,  and  if  her  heart  had 
its  tremors,  still  she  tried  to  take  care  that  Oscar  should 
never  see  a  tear  in  her  eyes.  But  many  a  time  when  she 
felt  herself  to  be  like  an  isthmus  between  the  two,  holding 
them  together,  yet  keeping  them  apart,  the  strung  bow  of  her 
will  slackened  and  she  was  nearly  breaking  down.  She 
waited  day  by  day  for  Oscar's  heart  to  speak  to  her,  and 
when  it  did  not  speak  she  told  herself  it  was  because  Helga 
was  so  beautiful. 

"Isn't  Helga  beautiful,  Aunt  Margret?" 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Aunt  Margret. 

"  You  know  she  is,  auntie.  You  know  she  is  the  most 
beautiful  girl   in  Iceland." 

"  Maybe  I  do — maybe  I  don't !  " 

"  What  an  advantage  beauty  like  Helga's  gives  to  a  girl — 
she  gets  everything  and  everybody.  If  a  girl  is  only  beauti- 
ful enough,  she  has  all  the  men  at  her  feet." 


THE    PRiyiJIGAL    SON  89 

"  They  must  be  chiropodists,  then,  and  there  are  not 
many  of  them  in  these  parts.  No,  no,  beauty  isn't  every- 
thing, Thora,  and  that's  a  mercy  for  some  of  us." 

The  color  began  to  mount  to  Thora's  eyes,  and  catching 
sight  of  this  flag  of  distress,  Aunt  Margret  continued : 

"  But  fine  feathers  make  fine  birds,  and  I  know  some  in 
Iceland  dress  would  make  Helga  look  small  if  they  were 
done  up  in  her  Danish  folderols." 

Thora's  blushing  face  began  to  shine  like  the  sunrise. 

"  But  what's  the  use  ?  Beauty  fills  the  eye,  but  not  the 
belly." 

"  Auntie  Margret,  what  plain  things  you  say !  " 

"  Do  I  ?  Then  it's  best  to  say  them  plainly.  It  isn't  good 
to  gild  copper  with  gold,  my  honey." 

After  this  talk  with  Aunt  Maigret,  Thora  was  more  the 
mistress  of  herself  than  before,  because  the  dividing  line 
between  Helga  and  herself  seemed  less.  She  made  up  her 
mind  that  she  would  dress  in  the  English  manner,  so  that 
Oscar  should  not  see  so  much  difference. 

She  had  money — the  di'ess  money  her  father  gave  her. 
It  was  not  very  much,  but  in  previous  years  she  had  given 
away  most  of  it,  and  this  year  she  had  intended  to  buy  a 
Scotch  overcoat  for  Hans,  the  sailor,  who  was  losing  all  re- 
spect for  himself  and  going  about  in  cold  weather  with  noth- 
ing over  his  shirt.  But  now  she  would  be  selfish,  she  would 
spend  her  money  on  herself,  and  that  was  only  right  since 
it  was  spending  it  on  Oscar  also. 

It  must  be  a  secret,  a  great  secret;  it  must  come  upon 
everybody  as  a  surprise,  because  that  would  be  half  the  bat- 
tle. So  she  bought  postal  orders  with  her  savings,  and  sent 
to  Edinburgh  for  a  costume  such  as  she  saw  in  the  picture 
of  a  trade  advertisement. 

The  costume  came  by  a  trading  steamer,  and  she  was  like 
a  child  in  her  secrecy  and  joy,  smuggling  the  big  cardboard 
box  up-stairs  to  her  room,  and  answering  the  inquisitive 
questions  of  the  Factor  and  Aunt  Margret  with  mysterious 
little  nods  and  subterfuges. 

The  day  was  crisp  and  frosty,  and  when  Oscar,  coming  in 
the  afternoon,  suggested  a  walk  to  the  lake  to  try  the  ice. 
"^or  skating,  Helga  responded  readily,  but  Thora  said  no. 
7 


90  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

3he  had  something  to  do,  something  important — a  little  sur* 
prise,  they  should  see  when  they  came  back  again. 

As  soon  as  Helga  and  Oscar  had  gone,  and  Aunt  Margret 
had  promised  to  make  tea,  Thora  stole  up  to  her  room, 
locked  the  door,  opened  the  box,  and  took  out  the  new  gar- 
ments that  were  to  work  the  wondrous  change.  They  were 
beautiful,  they  were  dreams,  they  were  lovelier  than  any- 
thing of  Helga's — a  blue  voile  dress  with  a  silk  corsage  and 
embroidered  yoke.  The  pleated  skirt  was  like  the  sun's  rays 
over  Hecla  after  a  shower  of  summer  rain,  and  the  silk 
of  the  blouse  was  as  beautiful  as  the  ice  of  a  glacier  with  the 
flowery  bubbles  of  air  in  it. 

Thora  laughed  for  joy,  and  taking  ofi  her  old  Iceland 
costume  she  threw  it  aside  as  a  thing  she  had  done  with — • 
the  granny  skirt,  the  stiff  trey  a,  and  the  starchy  brjest.  She 
wondered  how  she  could  have  worn  them  so  long,  and  even 
told  herself  what  she  would  do  with  them — she  would 
give  them  to  a  young  widow  who  had  lately  lost  her 
child  by  diphtheria  and  joined  the  people  at  the  Salvation 
shelter. 

When  she  took  up  the  new  garments  she  had  some  doubt 
as  to  how  they  were  to  be  put  on,  and  almost  wished  she 
had  inquired  of  Helga.  The  accordion  skirt  was  easy 
enough,  and  its  ample  train  made  her  feel  tall  and  imposing, 
but  the  blouse  was  a  besetting  trouble.  It  fastened  behind, 
and  after  despairing  efforts  to  catch  the  hooks  and  eyes  she 
was  tempted  to  call  Aunt  Margret;  but  she  thought  no,  that 
would  never  do,  so  she  struggled  on. 

The  room  was  cold,  but  when  she  had  finished  dressing  her 
face  was  flushed  and  heated.  She  had  put  on  her  silver 
belt,  because  it  was  a  present  from  Oscar,  and  brushed 
her  hair  sideways  over  the  forehead,  because  that  was  how 
Helga  wore  it.  Then  looking  at  herself  in  the  glass  she 
laughed  again,  for  she  was  proud  and  happy. 

What  would  Oscar  say  when  he  saw  her?  He  would  say, 
"  Why,  this  is  Helga  !  Another  Helga !  Not  quite  so  tall 
perhaps — but  just — yes,  really  just  as  nice-looking!"  And 
then  Helga  would  be  angry,  and  envious,  and  perhaps  go  back 
to  Denmark. 

She  was  walking  to   and   fro   on  tiptoe,  glancing  with 


THE    TRODIGAL    SON  91 

sparkling  eyes  at  her  figure  in  the  glass,  when  she  heard 
voices  in  the  hall  below. 

"  Thora !  "  cried  somebody  from  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 
It  was  Oscar. 

"  I'm  coming,"  she  answered. 

"What  about  the  great  surprise?" 

"  Presently !  "  she  cried. 

She  waited  until  she  heard  a  door  close  below,  and  then, 
still  laughing  a  little,  but  breathing  rapidly,  feeling  sure  of 
victory,  yet  with  a  fluttering  at  her  heart,  she  went  down 
the  stairs,  and  sailed  into  the  sitting-room. 

Oscar  was  leaning  on  the  marble  stove,  and  Helga,  sitting 
on  a  low  seat,  was  warming  her  feet  at  the  fire.  They 
turned  to  Thora  as  she  entered,  and  looked  at  her  with  wide 
eyes.  There  was  a  moment  of  chilling  silence,  and  then 
Thora,  breathing  faster  and  faster,  said: 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  it? " 

Helga  began  to  laugh,  first  in  a  smothered  titter,  but 
finally  in  an  outright  roar,  whereupon  Oscar,  who  had 
struggled  not  to  smile,  caught  the  contagion  and  joined  hei*. 

Thora's  pitiful  face  fell,  and  she  said,  with  a  crack  in  her 
voice : 

"  But  what  are  you  laughing  at,  Oscar  ?  " 

"My  dear,  dear  child!  "  said  Oscar;  and  Helga,  who  wa3 
still  laughing,  said : 

"A  little  milliner!  It  makes  her  look  like  a  little  mil- 
liner!" 

"  'No,  no,  not  that,"  said  Oscar.  "  But  it's  not  Thora. 
Thora  is  a  sweet,  simple  Iceland  maiden  whose  charm  is  her 
simplicity,  whereas  this " 

"  I  see,"  said  Thora,  and  with  her  heart  in  her  mouth 
she  turned  to  go. 

Oscar  stepped  to  the  door  to  stop  her,  but  with  the  shrill 
cry  of  a  hare  that  is  wounded  to  death  she  flung  out  at  him 
and  passed  through.  She  went  up-stairs  with  a  slow  step,  took 
off  her  English  costume,  put  it  back  in  the  cardboard  box, 
and  pushed  it  under  the  bed — crying  a  little  and  wiping 
her  eyes. 

She  knew  the  truth  at  last — she  knew  where  she  stood  in 
Oscar's  mind.     A  simple  Iceland  maiden — that  was  all  he 


92  THE    TRODIGAL    SON 

had  ever  seen  in  her !  It  was  she  who  had  merely  fascinated 
him,  and  Helga  whom  he  loved ! 

When  the  door  of  the  sitting-room  closed  on  Thora,  Oscar 
looked  at  Helga  and  said : 

"  Whatever  has  come  over  her  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  see  ?  "  said  Helga. 

"  Why,  no— what  is  it  ?  " 

"  How  stupid  these  clever  boys  can  be !  I  could  tell  you 
in  three  words." 

"Tell   me,    then— tell   me." 

"  Thora   is  jealous." 

"  You  don't  mean  that  ?  " 

Helga's  face  flushed ;  she  looked  up  at  Oscar,  and  a  mys- 
terious thrill  went  thi'ough  him.  The  great  surprise  had 
come  indeed. 

VI 

OscAK  slept  badly  that  night.  For  two  months  he  had  been 
moving  in  a  garden  of  dreams,  where  the  odor  of  sweet  flow- 
ers overpower  the  senses,  but  he  was  awake  at  last,  and  was 
being  dragged  to  trial  in  a  tribunal  of  his  own  creating.  In 
that  court  of  conscience  he  was  both  righteous  judge  and 
guilty  prisoner,  and  through  the  long  hours  of  broken  sleep, 
when  he  saw  his  life  and  motives  as  by  flashes  of  lightning, 
he  asked  and  answered  some  terrible  questions : 

Is  Thora's  jealousy  justified? 

No,  yes!  That  is  to  say — I  may  have  neglected  her — 
thoughtlessly  neglected  her. 

Do  you  love  Helga? 

It  isn't  necessary  to  think  that.  I  admire  her — I  admire 
her  beauty,  and  her  intellect,  but 

Then  you  do  not  love  her? 

I  love  her  society — I  love  to  be  with  her;  she  is  bright 
and  brilliant;  we  have  many  interests  in  common. 

Then  if  you  do  not  love  Helga,  why  not  cut  her  off  rather 
than  see  Thora  suffer? 

I  can't !    I  can't ! 

So  you  do  love  Helga? 

Yes!    Yes!    I  do  love  her. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  93 

Then  what  about  Thora? 

I  am  sorry  for  Thora — very  sorry. 

Have  you  ceased  to  love  her  ? 

Don't  say  that.  My  feeling  for  Thora  is  the  same  now 
as  it  has  always  been. 

Then  you  have  never  loved  her? 

I  thought  I  did — I  sincerely  thought  I  did. 

So  your  feeling  for  Thora  was  an  illusion? 

A  most  unfortunate  illusion,  and  I  am  troubled  about 
her — I  shall  always  be  troubled  about  her. 

But  you  are  betrothed  to  her? 

God  help  me,  so  I  am! 

What  are  you  going  to  do  now? 

What  am  I  going  to  do?  I  am — yes,  I  am  going  to  obey 
the  commandment  of  Nature.  Accident  and  error  and  illu- 
sion have  betrothed  me  to  the  wrong  woman,  but  must  I  hold 
to  her  after  I  have  found  out  that  I  do  not  love  her?  Xo! 
She  is  sweet  and  loving,  and  I  have  no  fault  to  find  with  her, 
but  I  must  obey  the  law  of  my  heart,  and  who  shall  judge  me 
if  I  do  that? 

But  what  about  the  law  of  the  land — you  have  signed  a 
contract  to  marry  Thora  ? 

Even  so,  is  marriage  like  any  other  worldly  transaction? 
Are  you  bound  to  go  on  merely  because  you  have  begun? 
Can  human  hearts  be  dealt  with  like  so  much  merchandise  ? 

So  you  do  not  intend  to  marry  Thora? 

I  cannot — it  is  impossible — now  that  her  sister  has  ap- 
peared before  me,  I  see  too  well  I  do  not  love  her. 

But  she  loves  you! 

That  is  the  pity  of  it.    Poor  Thora ! 

She  thinks  you  are  slipping  away  from  her  ? 

It  is  very  pitiful — I  see  how  I  have  made  her  suffer. 

What  will  happen  if  you  leave  her  altogether? 

Her  heart  will  break — her  tender,  sweet,  child  heart  will 
break. 

Can  you  break  Thora's  heart  ? 

No,  no,  no !    Better  break  my  own ! 

Then  what  are  you  going  to  do? 

I  must  go  on  with  the  marriage.  I  see  now  that  I  must- 
it  is  my  duty — there  is  no  help  for  it. 


§4  THE    PPvODIGAL    SON 

"Wait!  There  is  something  you  have  not  thought  about. 
If  you  go  on  with  your  contract  and  marry  Thora,  you 
must  be  prepared  to  live  her  life. 

I  know !  I  know !  And  I  am  not  fit  for  it !  Good  or  bad, 
I  am  not  fit  for  it ! 

But  if  you  break  your  contract,  and  do  not  marry  Thora, 
you  may  live  the  life  of  Helga. 

Yes,  yes,  and  I  am  fitted  for  that  life  above  everything 
else.    It  thrills  me,  it  inspires  me,  it  lifts  me  up. 

The  one  is  the  lower  life,  while  the  other  is  the  higher 
life. 

I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  it. 

You  know  that  if  you  marry  Thora  you  condemn  yourself 
for  ever  to  the  lower  life,  and  give  up  all  hope  and  all  thought 
of  the  higher  one  ? 

Don't  torture  me !     Don't  torture  me ! 

But  the  higher  life  will  be  a  life  consecrated  to  self,  where- 
as the  lower  life  will  be  a  life  devoted  to  self-sacrifice — which 
is  it  to  be? 

That  settles  it — I  must  go  on  with  the  contract,  whatever 
the  consequences. 

When  Oscar  awoke  in  the  morning  from  his  restless  sleep 
he  thought  he  saw  his  way  clearly.  There  was  only  one 
solution  of  the  hard  problem  of  his  iron  destiny — he  must 
sacrifice  himself!  He  was  betrothed  to  Thora,  and  he  must 
go  on  with  the  marriage.  He  loved  Helga,  but  he  must  tear 
her  out  of  his  heart.  He  wished  to  be  a  musician,  and  to 
live  the  higher  life,  but  he  must  be  content  with  the  lower 
life  and  do  his  duty. 

A  few  irresistible  pangs  of  regret,  a  few  tears  which  he 
could  not  quite  keep  back,  and  then,  feeling  a  certain  satis- 
faction with  himself,  a  certain  pride  in  his  self-sacrifice, 
Oscar  went  early  to  his  work. 

It  was  the  autumn  caravan  time,  when  the  farmers  come 
with  the  last  of  the  year's  tallow  and  wool  to  have  their  ac- 
counts made  up  and  settled.  The  offices  and  warehouses 
were  like  a  market-place,  and  there  was  work  for  everybody. 
Oscar  threw  himself  into  the  day's  doings  with  astonishing 
energy,  and  when  the  Factor  returned  from  breakfast  he 
bantered   him    on   his    industry.    "  Better  late  than  never. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  95 

though,"  said  the  Factor,  "  and  a  good  day  in  the  autumn 
is  worth  two  in  the  spring." 

Oscar  spent  the  morning  in  the  office  helping  at  the  ac- 
counts. His  part  was  to  reconcile  the  farmers  to  their  bal- 
ances, for  many  of  them  were  dissatisfied,  and  nearly  all 
were  in  the  Factor's  debt.  Some  grumbled  at  the  rate  they 
received  for  their  produce,  others  at  the  price  they  paid  for 
foreign  goods.  Oscar's  task  was  to  persuade,  cajole,  and 
comfort  them,  and  finally  to  draft  the  notes  of  hand  on  the 
bankers  with  which  they  discharged  their  debts.  He  felt 
mean  and  miserable. 

Toward  noon  Helga  sent  a  messenger  to  say  that  she 
hoped  to  rehearse  some  of  the  new  music  in  the  cathedral 
in  the  afternoon  and  to  ask  if  Oscar  would  go  with  her. 
He  answered  that  he  could  not,  business  was  pressing,  and 
he  must  stick  to  his  work.  It  cost  him  a  pang  to  send  back 
this  answer,  but  he  had  made  his  bed  and  he  meant  to  lie 
on  it. 

He  spent  the  afternoon  in  the  warehouse,  where  the  prod- 
uce brought  by  the  farmers  was  weighed  and  stacked  away 
for  the  winter.  The  odor  of  the  tallow  and  wool,  mingling 
with  the  smell  of  the  men's  clothes  and  the  reek  of  their 
bodies,  made  the  atmosphere  close  and  noisome,  and  to 
freshen  the  air  Oscar  ordered  the  big  doors  to  be  thrown 
open. 

All  at  once  through  the  clear,  crisp  winter  air  outside 
came  the  sound  of  the  organ  being  played  in  the  cathedral, 
and  that  was  the  last  drop  in  his  cup.  It  was  like  a  voice 
calling  him  out  of  the  lower  world  he  lived  in  to  the  higher 
one  he  yearned  for.  It  was  like  Helga  beckoning  to  him  in 
his  unblessed  surroundings,  and  through  the  roll  of  the 
music  he  could  see  her  face. 

For  the  first  time  Oscar  was  feeling  bitterly  about  Thora, 
as  if  he  were  a  prisoner  and  she  were  his  jailer,  when  a  man 
rode  up  to  the  warehouse  door  on  a  bright  chestnut  pony, 
with  a  line  of  pack  ponies  behind  him.  It  was  Magnus,  and 
seeing  him  stand  outside  the  counter,  which  he  had  formerly 
stood  within,  Oscar  felt  some  qualms  of  shame,  and  called 
him  into  the  scalesman's  oflSce. 

The  interview  between  the  brothers  was  brief  and  com- 


96  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

monplace,  but  every  simple  word  seemed  to  throb  and  scorcb 
like  a  flarae.  Oscar  asked  how  Magnus  was  getting  on  at 
the  farm,  and  if  he  had  good  servants,  and  Magnus 
answered  "  Yes  " ;  he  had  always  been  fond  of  farming,  and 
for  servants  he  had  only  the  old  ones,  and  everything  was 
as  before.  Oscar  asked  if  the  Governor  had  made  satisfac- 
tory arrangements,  and  Magnus  said  he  had,  that  the  farm 
was  his  own  now  on  terms  of  tenancy,  and  was  to  become 
his  property  at  the  old  people's  death. 

"  And  how  are  you  getting  on  here  ?  "  asked  Magnus. 

"I?    Oh— pretty  well,  I  think." 

"You  like  the  work?" 

"  Yes — well — not  to  say  like,  perhaps ;  I  never  expected 
to  do  that,  you  know;  but  I'm  all  right,  I  think." 

They  had  to  pause,  for  the  din  in  the  warehouse  was  louder 
than  usual — some  of  the  farmers  were  squabbling  with  the 
scalesmen. 

"  And  Thora  ? "  said  Magnus  after  a  moment. 

"  Thora  ?  Oh,  Thora  is  all  right,  too,  I  think.  Yes,  Thora 
is  all  right,"  said  Oscar. 

"  Mother  tells  me  she  looks  pale." 

"  Pale  ?  Does  she  ?  I  hadn't  noticed  it.  Perhaps  she 
does  though,  the  weather  is  getting  cold." 

There  was  a  painful  pause  in  their  conversation,  and  while 
they  waited  Oscar  could  hear  the  organ  in  the  cathedral 
breaking   into   the   opening  notes  of  his   own  anthem. 

"  I  hear  that  Helga  has  come  home,"  said  Magnus. 

"  Oh,  yes,  Helga  has  come  home,"  said  Oscar. 

"  They  say  she  is  handsome." 

"  Handsome  ?  Yes,  she's  rather  handsome,  in  fact,  dis- 
tinctly handsome — and  musical — decidedly  musical.  Indeed, 
she  has  grown  to  be  a  very  attractive  girl — very !  " 

There  was  another  awkward  silence,  in  which  the  anthem 
pealed  out  over  the  jangling  voices  in  the  warehouse. 

"  I  suppose  the  wedding  will  be  soon,"  said  Magnus. 

"The  wedding?  Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Magnus, 
nothing  has  been  fixed  yet." 

"Not  yet?" 

"  Nothing  definite,  I  mean — no  precise  date.  I  don't  know- 
why,  but " 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  97 

Oscar  looked  at  his  brother,  and  felt  his  tongue  arrested. 

Magnus  was  calm,  his  eyes  were  quiet,  and  his  voice  was 
soft,  but  there  was  something  in  his  face  which  brought 
back  a  terrible  memory.  It  was  the  memory  of  the  night 
of  the  betrothal,  the  last  time  they  talked  together,  when 
Magnus  had  said,  "  If  you  ever  neglect  or  desert  her  or  give 
her  up  for  another  woman,  I'll  take  her  back — do  you  hear 
me  ?— I'll  take  her  back,  and  then,  by  God,  I'll  kill  you !  " 

Oscar  supped  at  the  Factor's  house  that  night.  He  was 
unusually  solemn,  and  more  than  once  during  the  meal 
Aunt  Margret  bantered  him  on  his  silence,  but,  at  the  end 
of  it,  while  lighting  a  cigarette,  he  said : 

"  Godfather,  I  hope  you'll  consent  to  our  having  the  wed- 
ding soon  ?  " 

Thora,  who  had  been  looking  pale  and  nervous,  colored  up 
with  a  glad  look,  while  Helga,  who  had  been  flushed  and 
excited,  grew  white  and  rigid. 

"What  do  you  call  soon,  Oscar — Easter?"  asked  the 
Factor. 

"  Earlier,  much  earlier,  say  the  middle  of  January  at 
latest,"  said  Oscar. 

"  But  what  does  Thora  say  ?  " 

Rising  from  her  seat,  with  brightening  eyes  and  heaving 
bosom,  Thora  crossed  over  to  Oscar  and  kissed  him. 

"  So  that's  what  Thora  says !  "  laughed  the  Factor.  "  Very 
well,  I'm  willing!  The  middle  of  January  let  it  be  then, 
and  fix  the  date  between  you." 

Helga's  white  face  quivered.  "  So  that's  settled !  "  she 
cried,  and  leaping  up  she  went  across  to  the  piano  and  began 
to  play  with  great  vigor.  She  played  the  wild  "  Ride  of  the 
Valkyries,"  becoming  faster  and  louder  at  every  bar. 

Oscar  was  in  torture,  and  he  went  home  early.  "  What  a 
mercy  Helga  does  not  know !  "  he  thought.  "  If  she  did, 
I  could  not  trust  myself  even  yet!  And  if  she  loves  me 
as  I  love  her — good  God !  " 

But  Thora  was  very  happy.  Going  to  bfed  that  night  she 
thought,  "  How  wrong  I  have  been  about  Oscar ;  how  cruelly, 
wickedly,  shamefully  wrong !  " 


98  THE    PKODIGAL    SON 


VII 


N'ext  morning  Oscar  thought  the  battle  was  over,  and  his 
conscience  had  conquered,  but  the  devil  was  not  done  with 
him  yet.  lie  had  hardly  settled  to  his  work  in  the  ware- 
house when  a  letter  came  from  Helga,  saying : 

"  The  ice  is  perfect  on  the  lake  this  morning,  and  in 
spite  of  business  and  every  other  botheration  you  must 
carry  out  your  promise  to  take  me  to  skate.  Therefore  come 
at  two  o'clock  to  the  minute,  and  you  will  find  me  waiting 
to  go  with  you." 

It  was  the  first  letter  he  had  received  from  Helga,  and  it 
seemed  to  burn  his  fingers.  The  scented  note-paper  and  the 
free,  bold  handwriting  gave  him  a  physical  thrill  which  he 
had  never  felt  before. 

Should  he  go  ?  His  soul  said,  "  Certainly  not !  Why  ex- 
pose yourself  to  temptation,  especially  now,  when  you  are 
as  weak  as  water."  But  his  heart  said,  "  You  must !  To 
make  any  difference  in  your  attitude  toward  Helga  would 
be  to  run  the  risk  of  betraying  your  secret.  And  what  about 
the  future — can  you  always  run  away  like  that  ?  "  His  heart 
won,  and  at  the  appointed  time  he  was  walking  up  to  the 
Factor's. 

Helga  was  standing  by  the  door  at  the  top  of  the  steps. 
She  was  dressed  in  pale  blue  serge,  a  short  skirt  exposing 
the  long  tanned  boots,  a  jersey  revealing  the  flexible  lines  of 
her  shapely  figure,  and  a  white  woolen  cap,  like  a  chain  hel- 
met, covering  half  her  forehead  and  closing  under  her  chin, 
leaving  her  vivid  face  bare  and  beautiful  as  a  young  nun's 
in  hood  and  bands. 

Oscar  was  beginning  to  doubt  himself  already,  and  he 
asked  where  was  Thora. 

"  I'm  here,"  said  a  cheerful  voice  from  the  hall,  and  Thora 
came  to  the  door  bright  and  happy,  but  bareheaded,  and 
sewing  a  piece  of  moleskin  cloth. 

"  Not  ready  ?  "  said  Oscar, 

"  I'm  not  going,  I  can't  skate,"  said  Thora. 

"  Then  we'll  take  a  walk  instead,"  said  Oscar.  But  Thora 
would  not  hear  of  it.     Helga  had  set  her  heart  on  skating. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SOX  99 

and  she  had  set  her  heart  on  something   else — making  a 
sleeve  waistcoat  for  Hans,  the  sailor. 

"  Well,  if  you  really  wish  it,"  said  Oscar. 

"  Eeally,  truly !  And  I'll  have  tea  ready  for  you  at  five 
o'clock." 

"  We'll  be  back  before  that,"  said  Oscar,  and  then  he  and 
Helga  went  swinging  down  the  road. 

Helga,  in  her  short  skirt,  walked  with  a  spring,  like  a 
young  horse  in  sharp  weather,  and  Oscar,  as  he  swung  along 
by  her  side,  sometimes  touching  her,  felt  his  blood  tingling, 
and  every  nerve  tremblingly  alive.  This  frightened  him  a 
little,  and  turning  to  look  back  he  saw  Thoi-a  waving  to 
them  from  the  house,  and  said,  "  God  bless  her,  the  dear 
little  soul ! "  And  then  Helga  glanced  at  him  sideways 
and  laughed. 

The  frost  had  filtered  the  air,  and  it  was  crisp  and  quiver- 
ing with  currents  of  electricity,  which  stimulated  all  their 
senses.  Their  voices  crackled  when  they  spoke,  and  when 
Helga  laughed  the  sound  was  like  that  of  dry  sticks  in  a 
quick  fire. 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at,  Helga  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  and  then  they  laughed  together. 

The  ice  of  the  lake  was  glorious — a  broad  mirror  black  as 
ink,  for  there  had  been  no  snow  yet,  the  water  had  frozen 
as  by  first  intention,  and  through  five  fathoms  they  could 
see  the  stones  and  pebbles  at  the  bottom. 

"  What  a  pity  Thora  didn't  come,"  said  Oscar, 

"  Isn't  it  ? "  said  Helga,  and  again  she  glanced  at  him 
sideways  and  laughed. 

They  sat  on  the  bank  to  put  on  their  skates,  and  while 
Helga  fumbled  at  her  straps,  Oscar  thought,  "  I  must  not, 
I  will  not !  "  But  Helga  looked  across  at  him  with  a  smile 
that  seemed  to  ask  a  question,  and  at  the  next  moment  he 
was  down  on  his  knees  in  front  of  her,  with  one  of  her 
skates  and  one  of  her  long  tanned  boots  in  his  quivering 
hands. 

Oscar  thought  Helga's  skating  was  wonderful.  It  was 
divine,  it  was  devilish,  it  intoxicated  him,  he  could  not  trust 
himself  to  look  at  it  alone,  and  seeing  a  number  of  skaters 
at  the  farther  side  of  the  lake,  where  there  was  an  island  of 
lava  rocks,  he  said: 


100  THE    PEODIGAL    SON 

"  Let  us  go  over  to  the  others." 

Hours  passed,  the  exercise  and  the  air  warmed  his  blood, 
his  tremors  left  him,  and  he  forgot  about  Thora.  At 
length  the  sun  began  to  set  over  the  sea  in  a  flood  of  glory, 
and  Oscar  said,  "  Time  to  go  home." 

"  'Not  yet,"  said  Helga,  and  they  went  round  and  round 
the  island,  sometimes  apart,  sometimes  with  clasped  hands, 
sometimes  side  by  side  with  arms  interlaced  across  their 
.breasts. 

The  sun  went  down,  and  both  sea  and  land  became  gray 
and  cold,  but  still  the  tops  of  the  mountains  were  golden. 

"  Tea  will  be  waiting,"  said  Oscar. 

"  A  little  longer !  "  said  Helga,  and  nothing  loath,  Oscar 
■went  round  and  round  with  her  again. 

The  night  came  striding  up  from  the  plain  behind,  and 
somebody  lit  a  fire  on  the  island. 

"  Too  late  for  tea  now,"  said  Helga,  and  once  again  Oscar 
went  round  and  round  with  her.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
Helga's  face  flashed  with  electric  flame  as  she  swirled  out 
of  the  darkness  into  the  red  glow  from  the  fire,  and  back 
again  into  the  darkness. 

One  of  the  skaters  started  the  Elf -song,  others  joined  him, 
and  then  it  was  a  scene  of  complete  enchantment.  The  frost 
had  laid  its  hand  on  the  falls  that  fed  the  lake,  and  they 
•were  quiet;  it  had  stroked  the  streams,  and  they  were  still; 
but  if  the  voices  of  the  waters  were  silent,  the  voices  of  the 
skaters  rippled  and  rang  in  the  crisp  night  air. 

"  Dance  by  night  and  dance  by  day, 
Life  and  Time  will  pass  away : 
Love  alone  will  last  alway." 

Oscar  was  enraptured.  The  humming  of  the  skates,  the 
swaying  of  the  ice,  the  music  of  the  singers,  the  heat,  the 
glow,  the  sinuous  movement,  and  above  all  the  girl  by  his 
side,  so  bright,  so  beautiful,  so  full  of  life  and  laughter,  car- 
ried away  every  sense,  and  flesh  and  blood  were  afire. 

Then  the  moon  rose,  a  brilliant  moon,  and  it  was  re- 
flected full  and  round  and  white  in  the  black  mirror  of  the 
ice.  with  its  streamers  going  off  from  it,  as  if  it  had  been  a 


THE  rnoDiGAL  son  101 

comet  that  had  fallen  to  the  earth,  and  lay  there  at  their 
lee  I/. 

"  Look !  Let  us  cut  across  it,"  cried  Helga,  and  away  they 
shot  in  the  darkness,  with  the  moon's  reflection  receding 
as  they  followed  it,  until  they  came  to  the  limit  of  the  lake, 
and  then  the  skatei*s  and  the  fire  and  the  singing  were  far 
behind  them. 

"  What  a  will  o'  the  wisp  she  is !  I  could  catch  you  quicker 
than  I  could  catch  her !  "  said  Oscar. 

"You  couldn't!" 

"  I  could !  " 

"  Do  it  then !  "  cried  Helga,  and  off  she  went,  laughing  at 
first,  but  afterward  silent  yet  breathing  fast,  and  at  last 
panting  audibly  while  she  twisted  and  turned  to  escape  from 
him,  until  he  came  down  on  her  at  length  with  outstretched 
arms  and  a  cry  of  "  Done !  "  And  then,  before  he  knew 
what  he  was  doing,  he  was  clasping  her  to  his  breast,  and 
she  was  clinging  to  him  lest  she  should  fall,  and  he  was  beat- 
ing kiss  after  kiss  upon  her  lips. 

At  the  next  moment  consciousness  came  back  to  him  like 
an  ice  wind  blowing  in  a  furnace.  His  arms  slackened  away 
from  Helga,  and  he  said  in  a  cold  voice : 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Helga.  It  was  wrong  of  me.  I  am 
very  sorry." 

Helga  laughed,  a  nervous,  broken  laugh  which  seemed 
to  say,  "  Are  you  sure  you  are  thinking  of  me  ?  " 

"  I  am  betrothed  to  your  sister,  and  in  less  than  two 
months  I  am  to  be  married  to  her.  I  had  no  right  to  give 
way  to  my  feelings  like  that,"  said  Oscar. 

The  nervous,  broken  laugh  came  again,  and  it  said,  as 
plainly  as  words  could  speak,  "  Do  you  know  what  you  are 
saying,  Oscar? " 

Oscar  trembled  like  a  withered  leaf.  He  was  like  a  man 
standing  on  the  hot  ground  of  the  geysers,  where  the  crust 
was  thin  and  cracking  under  his  feet. 

"  Let  us  go  home,"  he  said. 

"  Take  off  my  skates  then,"  said  Helga, 

She  sat  on  the  bank  in  the  moonlight,  and  while  he  knelt 
at  her  feet  and  fumbled  with  the  straps,  his  tongue  went  on 
with  rambling  sentences,  but  every  word  was  tearing  as  at 
a  torn  tendon. 


102  THE    PRODIGAL    SOX 

"  Wlien  a  man  has  engaged  himself  to  a  good  woman,  lie 
ought  to  be  true  to  her.  It  is  his  duty,  and  whatever  the 
consequences  to  himself,  he  ought  to  do  it.  If  he  has  to 
suflFer,  he  must  suffer,  Helga,  and  if  he  has  to  sacrifice  him- 
self  " 

A  faint  sound  stopped  him.  Helga  was  crying.  Her  cry- 
ing seemed  to  search  his  innermost  thoughts,  and  to  say, 
"  But  have  you  any  right  to  sacrifice  me?  " 

"  Helga !  Helga !  "  he  cried,  but  she  took  no  notice.  She 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  her  crying  became 
deep  and  long  and  inconsolable. 

He  wished  to  comfort  her,  but  he  dare  not  do  so.  He  re- 
membered Thora  and  Magnus,  the  Factor,  and  his  father, 
and  his  thoughts  danced  about  his  naked  soul  like  demons. 

"  Helga !  Helga !  "  he  cried  again,  but  still  Helga's  weep- 
ing continued.  If  it  had  gone  on  a  moment  longer  he  must 
have  taken  her  in  his  arms  again  and  told  her  that  he  loved 
her;  that  his  love  for  her  was  above  all  laws,  all  illusions, 
all  conventions;  it  was  the  commandment  of  Nature,  and 
he  was  compelled  to  obey  it ;  and  they  must  fly  from  Iceland 
and  never  return,  whatever  the  waste  of  ruined  lives  they 
had  to  leave  behind  them. 

But  Helga's  crying  stopped  suddenly,  and  throwing  back 
her  head  she  said  fiercely,  "  Very  well,  if  you  are  satisfied, 
so  am  I !  " 

Then  she  leapt  to  her  feet,  wiped  her  eyes  vigorously  and 
laughed — a  short,  hard,  bitter  laugh,  and  after  that  Oscar 
recovered  control  of  himself. 

"  Let  us  be  off,"  she  said. 

Going  back  by  the  road  that  skirts  the  lake,  side  by  side, 
but  neither  touching  the  other,  and  both  silent,  Oscar 
thought,  "  Good  heavens,  what  an  escape !  Another  moment 
and  what  might  not  have  happened !  What  a  fool  I  was  to 
expose  myself  to  this  temptation !  Marriage  is  my  only  safe- 
guard. It  must  be  soon.  Thora  and  I  must  go  away.  When 
we  return,  Helga  may  be  back  in  Denmark,  and  then  a 
scene  like  this  will  never  occur  again !  " 

When  they  reached  the  house  at  last,  he  felt  like  an  adul- 
terer coming  home  after  his  first  offense,  but  Thora  looked 
happy  and  unsuspicious. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  103 

*I  knew  you  couldn't  tear  yourselves  away  from  your 
skating,  so  I  put  the  tea  away,  and  now  supper  is  nearly 
ready,"  she  said. 

After  supper  Oscar  said,  "  Godfather,  I  wish  you  would 
permit  me  to  alter  the  arrangement  of  last  evening." 

"  You  want  to  go  back  to  Easter,  eh  ? "  said  the  Factor. 

"  No,  sir,  to  come  on  to  Christmas,"  said  Oscar,  and  then 
he  gave  his  reasons.  Thora  was  looking  pale — everybody 
thought  so — she  wanted  a  change — he  would  like  to  take  her 
to  England,  perhaps  to  France,  and  even  to  Italy.  They 
might  stay  away  during  the  months  of  spring  and  come 
back  for  the  first  of  summer,  when  Althing  would  open  its 
session,  and  by  that  time  Thora  would  be  well,  and  he  him- 
self would  be  ready  to  set  to  work  in  earnest. 

"  But  Christmas,  my  gracious ! "  cried  Aunt  Margret, 
"  hardly  time  for  the  banns !  And  what  about  Thora's  wed- 
ding-dress ? " 

But  Thora  herself  was  in  raptures,  and  Aunt  Margret's 
objections  were  borne  down. 

"  Christmas  let  it  be  then,"  said  the  Factor,  whereupon 
Thora  gave  a  cry  of  joy,  and  Helga,  whose  eyes  had  passed 
with  a  quick  glance  from  face  to  face,  while  her  own  grew 
paler  and  paler,  leapt  up,  saying: 

"  And  now  let  us  have  a  dance  to  celebrate  the  happy 
event ! " 

"  No,  no,  no,"  said  Oscar. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Helga,  and  sitting  down  to  the  piano  she 
played  a  dance  tune  with  a  rapid  and  passionate  touch. 
"  Make  him  dance,  Thora,"  she  cried  with  an  awful  bright- 
ness in  her  eyes. 

Thora  took  hold  of  Oscar  and  dragged  him  to  his  feet, 
saying  laughingly,  "  Why  not,  Oscar  ?  " 

Tables  and  chairs  were  pulled  aside,  the  Factor  went  off 
to  smoke,  and  Oscar  and  Thora  danced  while  Helga  played, 
laughing  loudly,  and  calling  to  them  again  and  again. 

"Helga!  Helga!  Not  so  fast!  You'll  kill  us,"  cried 
Thora. 

But  Helga  only  laughed  the  louder  and  played  the  faster, 
"with  a  fierceness  that  seemed  to  consume  her  like  a  fire. 

Oscar  went  home  that  night  with  an  aching  heart,  but 
Thora  went  to  bed  happy. 


104  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  How  wrong  I  was  about  dear  Helga,  also !  "  she  thought, 
and  then  drawing  a  deep  breath  she  fell  asleep. 


VIII 

To  think  yourself  happy  is  to  be  happy,  and  Thora  thought 
herself  the  happiest  little  woman  in  the  world.  The  weeks 
before  her  wedding  were  the  brightest  period  of  her  heart's 
existence.  She  counted  the  days  backward  from  the  day 
she  was  living  in  to  the  day  of  all  days  that  was  to  come,  and 
every  morning,  the  moment  she  awoke,  she  said  to  herself, 
"  Only  nineteen  now,"  and  then  eighteen,  seventeen,  and 
sixteen,  until  it  became  three,  two,  and  one.  "  Our  Thora  is 
like  a  white  mouse  in  a  revolving  cage — she  can't  make  the 
world  go  round  quickly  enough,"  said  Aunt  Margret. 

Hers  was  not  the  happiness  that  makes  the  heart  afraid, 
and  she  had  not  a  moment's  misgiving  about  Oscar  now. 
She  never  once  saw  him  alone  for  more  than  two  minutes 
together,  but  that  did  not  trouble  her  at  all.  He  came  and 
went  every  day,  always  in  a  hurry,  and  always  breathless, 
and  she  gave  him  the  benevolence  of  a  smile,  and  occasion- 
ally the  charity  of  a  kiss,  when  it  could  be  done  decently  be- 
hind the  dining-room  door.  But  usually  he  had  to  be  con- 
tent to  see  her  seated  among  her  dressmakers  and  sewing- 
maids,  and  that  suited  him  better  than  she  knew. 

There  was  nothing  to  tarnish  the  white  simplicity  of  her 
happiness,  and  when  Oscar  could  come  with  maps  and  tour 
lists  to  arrange  about  their  journey  she  would  say: 

"Why  don't  you  talk  it  over  with  Helga?  She  knows 
more  about  traveling." 

And  then  Oscar  would  stammer  a  little  and  say,  "  Well,  if 
you  are  willing  to  be  guided  by  Helga's  judgment,  and 
Helga  herself  will " 

"  Certainly  I  am,  so  be  off  to  my  bedroom  and  settle  every- 
thing." 

Whereupon  Oscar  would  cry,  "  No,  no,  we're  right  enough 
here,"  and  then  Helga  and  he — the  one  trembling  lest  a 
word  should  betray  him,  the  other  going  through  the  bitter- 
ness of  looking  at  happiness  through  another's  eyes — would 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  105 

discuss  routes  and  railway  journeys  to  the  click  of  scissors 
and  the  buzz  of  the  sewing  machine. 

"  We'll  go  up  by  the  Mont  Cenis,  eh? "  "  No,  by  the  St. 
Gothard."  "  We'll  come  back  by  San  Kemo  and  Nice." 
"  And  Monte  Carlo !  "    "  Yes,  of  course — Monte  Carlo." 

"  My  gracious,  it  might  be  Helga  who  was  going  on  her 
honeymoon,"  Aunt  Margret  would  say. 

"  Mightn't  it  ? "  Thora  would  answer,  and  then  she  would 
laugh  like  a  child. 

In  the  Holy  Land  of  her  innocent  heart  she  had  only  one 
thought  about  her  sister — that  she  had  done  her  the  wrong 
of  suspecting  her.  Helga  might  know  nothing  about  that, 
but  she  knew,  and  she  could  never  be  quite  satisfied  until 
she  had  made  amends.  Time  and  again  she  thought  of  a  way 
to  do  this,  and  at  length  an  artful  scheme  occurred  to  her. 
It  was  a  daring  design,  and  asking  herself  when  she  could 
bring  it  to  pass  she  concluded  that  it  must  be  on  her  wedding- 
day,  because  she  would  be  the  queen  of  her  own  little  king- 
dom then  and  nobody  could  deny  her  anything.  Meantime 
it  was  to  be  her  secret,  and  Helga  was  to  hear  nothing  about 
it,  and  even  Oscar  himself  was  not  to  know. 

There  was  only  one  other  streak  of  alloy  in  Thora's  happi- 
ness, and  that  was  her  memory  of  Magnus.  The  brave 
heart  did  not  break  and  Magnus's  despair  might  be  dumb, 
but  the  thought  of  his  suffering  was  the  tang  of  iron  in  the 
sweet  wine  of  Thora's  life.  To  complete  her  happiness  every- 
body had  to  share  it,  so  when  Oscar  came  one  day  she  took 
him  into  the  hall  and  said : 

"  Oscar,  who  is  to  be  best  man  ? "  And  Oscar  stam- 
mered : 

"  Well,  really,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  hadn't — that  is  to 
say " 

"  Why  not  Magnus  ?  "  said  Thora. 

"  Magnus  ?  I  thought  of  that,  but — "  and  then  came 
the  old  difficulty — he  had  not  yet  set  Magnus  right  on  the 
subject  of  the  betrothal,  and  until  that  could  be  done  the 
old  people  would  object  to  him. 

'•  But  why  shouldn't  you  do  it  now,  Oscar  ?  Such  a  splen- 
did moment  to  heal  every  sore  and  let  bygones  be  bygones." 

"  Yes,  certainly,  that's  so,"  said  Oscar,  but  he  went  off 
8 


106  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

with  a  troubled  face,  and  Thora  heard  no  more  from  him  on 
the  subject  until  the  day  before  the  wedding,  when  he  said: 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,  about  the  best  man,  that  splendid 
scheme  of  yours  was  impossible,  Thora." 

"  Impossible  ? " 

"  Mother  tells  me  Magnus  has  gone  to  the  Northlands — 
went  away  about  a  week  ago,  it  seems." 

"  In  the  winter  and  on  the  eve  of  the  wedding?  " 

"  She  thinks  he'll  be  back  for  that,  but,  of  course,  we  can't 
take  risks,  so  Neils — you  remember  Neils  Finsen,  the  Sher- 
iff's son? — Neils  came  back  in  the  last  steamer,  and  he'll  be 
best  man,  so  that's  settled." 

"  What  a  pity !  "  said  Thora,  and  then  Oscar,  who  had 
opened  the  door,  cried : 

"  Helloa !  Snowing !  We're  going  to  have  a  white  wed- 
ding, Thora !  "  and  with  a  nervous  laugh  he  buttoned  up  his 
coat  collar  and  went  off  without  kissing  her. 

She  remembered  this  again  when  she  was  going  to  bed, 
and,  sitting  on  the  great  chair  before  the  cheerful  stove, 
with  the  curtains  drawn  and  all  so  sweet  and  cozy,  she  re- 
flected that  it  was  the  last  time  she  was  to  sleep  in  her 
father's  house.  The  three  weeks  were  almost  gone  at  last, 
and  so  was  her  girlhood;  and  now  that  both  were  nearly 
over  they  seemed  to  have  vanished  like  a  dream.  She  was 
happy  still,  but  it  would  have  taken  very  little  to  turn  her 
happiness  into  pain.  It  was  a  pity  Oscar  had  forgotten  to 
kiss  her,  and  it  was  a  pity  Magnus  would  not  be  present 
at  the  wedding. 

Toward  the  mirk  of  night  she  went  to  bed,  and  then  the 
snow  was  still  falling.  She  thought  of  Magnus  traveling 
over  the  desert,  and  wondered  why  he  had  gone  away  just 
then.  Perhaps  it  was  because  he  could  not  bear  to  look 
upon  their  happiness — hers  and  Oscar's!    Poor  Magnus! 

But  the  memory  of  Magnus  was  whirled  away  in  a  cloud 
of  other  thoughts — the  wedding,  the  wedding  presents,  the 
wedding-feast,  and  Oscar,  always  Oscar — and  then  the  tired 
eyelids  of  her  mind  closed  in  peace  and  good-will  with  all 
the  world,  and  she  slept  the  last  sleep  of  her  maidenhood. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  107 


IX 

"Thora!  Thora!  Well,  I  declare!  The  girl  is  still 
sleeping !  " 

"  On  her  wedding-day,  too.    Thora !    Thora !  " 

Thora  awoke  with  a  start  at  the  calling  and  knocking 
at  her  door.  Leaping  out  of  bed  she  ran  to  the  window  and 
parted  the  curtains.  It  was  broad  morning,  the  sun  was  shin- 
ing brightly  over  the  snow,  and  all  the  world  was  white. 

She  opened  the  door,  the  sewing-maids  and  dressmakers 
trooped  into  the  room,  and  from  that  moment  onward  for 
several  hours  the  universe  was  a  chaos  without  form  and 
void,  in  which  all  talked  at  once  and  everybody  ran  up 
against  everybody  else,  and  Thora  ate  her  breakfast  while 
fwalking  about  or  being  "  fitted  on." 

But  the  dress  and  the  dressing  were  finished  at  length, 
and  Aunt  Margret  was  called  up  to  look.  Nobody  in  Iceland 
had  ever  seen  such  a  bridal  costume — the  silk  kirtle,  the 
silver-gilt  crown,  the  faldur,  the  veil,  and  the  blue  plush 
cloak. 

"Isn't  she  beautiful,  Margret?"  said  the  maids,  where- 
upon Aunt  Margret,  whose  eyes  were  glistening  behind  her 
spectacles,  said : 

"Talk  about  Helga— tut!" 

Then  the  cathedral  bells  began  to  ring  and  a  hush  fell  on 
everybody.  Thora  went  slowly  down-stairs  and  found  her 
father  (looking  taller  than  ever  in  a  new  silk  hat)  waiting 
for  her  in  the  hall,  and  Silvertop  standing  ready  in  the  street, 
with  a  side-saddle  of  red  plush  and  gilt.  There  were  a  few 
jests,  a  few  laughs,  a  few  furtive  tears,  and  then  they  started 
off.  The  snow  underfoot  was  as  dry  and  soft  as  flour,  and 
it  was  with  difficulty  that  the  pony  could  be  made  to  walk 
sedately. 

From  the  moment  they  reached  the  cathedral  it  was  all 
like  a  dream  to  Thora,  a  beautiful  day-dream,  such  as  she 
had  dreamt  sometimes  when  she  thought  she  was  dead  and 
her  happy  soul  was  entering  heaven. 

The  bridesmaids  were  waiting  in  the  porch — Helga  look- 


lOS  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

ing  wondrously  beautiful  in  an  English  dress,  and  two  for- 
mer school-fellows  in  Iceland  costume. 

Thora,  who  was  moving  as  in  a  vision,  felt  somebody  tak- 
ing off  her  plush  cloak,  and  then  the  bells  stopped  and  the 
organ  began.  At  the  next  moment  the  choir  was  singing 
a  hymn — the  usual  hymn,  "  When  God  the  ^Father  led  the 
first  of  brides" — and  then  she  was  going  up  the  aisle,  leaning 
on  her  father's  arm. 

She  had  never  seen  so  many  faces  since  the  day  she  was 
confirmed.  They  seemed  to  move  past  her,  and  they  made 
her  almost  dizzy.  She  remembered  how  at  other  weddings 
the  congregation  had  watched  for  the  bride  and  looked  at 
her  as  if  she  had  been  a  supernatural  thing.  "  She's  com- 
ing !  "  "  Here  she  comes !  "  She  herself  was  the  bride  now, 
and  the  people  were  craning  their  necks  to  see  her. 

Thora  could  feel  their  smiling  faces,  and  she  knew  that  her 
own  face  was  smiling.  She  could  hear  what  the  people  were 
saying  as  she  passed  them :  "  Dear  Thora !  "  "  How  lovely 
she  looks !  "  "  I'm  satisfied  now,  and  I  don't  care  if  I  go — 
I  only  wanted  to  see  how  Thora  looked  in  the  kirtle."  And 
meanwhile  the  voices  of  the  choir  were  coming  down  from 
the  gallery  as  from  the  sky  and  floating  round  and  round  her. 

At  the  top  of  the  nave  Oscar  was  waiting — so  perfectly 
dressed,  so  handsome,  so  noble-looking — ^with  a  fair  young 
man  on  his  right  hand,  and  on  his  left  the  Governor,  very 
solemn  and  stately  with  his  iron-grey  hair  and  beard. 

The  hymn  came  to  an  end,  the  organ  died  down,  and 
Thora  found  herself  standing  by  Oscar's  side  at  the  foot  of 
the  chancel  steps,  with  the  old  Bishop  in  his  pleated  blade 
gown  and  white  ruff  at  the  top  of  them.  There  was  a  rustle 
behind  her,  then  there  was  silence,  and  the  Bishop  began  to 
speak. 

"  My  children,"  he  said,  "when  long  ago  God  the  Father 
led  the  first  of  brides  to  the  first  of  men  in  the  beautiful 
garden  of  Eden  he  linked  their  hands  together  in  love,  and 
that  was  the  first  marriage.  Since  then  He  has  carried  on 
the  human  story  by  the  same  sweet  means,  and  love  is  still 
the  bond  that  binds  man  to  woman,  and  woman  to  man." 

"  My  children,"  said  the  Bishop  again — he  was  speaking 
to  her  and  Oscar — "  you  come  here  to  be  made  man  and  wife. 


THE    PKODIGAL    SON  109 

and  because  you  love  one  another  God  is  willing  to  join 
your  hands  in  holy  wedlock,  for  He  blesses  and  sanctifies 
no  other  union,  whether  of  wealth  or  worldly  advantage  or 
any  other  interest  whatsoever. 

"  We  know  you  both,  my  children ;  we  who  are  gathered 
here  have  watched  the  flower  of  your  affection  bud  and 
bloom,  and  now  we  pray  to  God  that  you  may  be  true  to 
the  vows  you  are  to  make  to-day,  always  bearing  each  other's 
burdens,  forgiving  each  other's  faults,  and  cherishing  the 
human  love  that  is  a  symbol  of  the  love  divine. 

"  My  daughter,  love  him  who  is  to  be  your  husband ;  let 
him  find  on  your  breast  his  solace  for  every  sorrow,  whatever 
the  world  may  do  to  him,  and  whatever  the  world  may  say, 

"  My  son,  love  her  who  is  to  be  your  wife.  There  is  noth- 
ing nobler  in  this  imperfect  existence,  no  sight  more  sweet 
and  heavenly,  than  when  a  good  girl  leaves  the  father  who 
loves  her,  and  the  home  where  she  has  been  happy,  and  says 
to  him  who  is  to  be  her  husband :  '  The  past  was  beautiful, 
but  I  trust  the  future  all  to  you.'  Be  worthy  of  that  trust. 
my  son,  be  strong,  be  brave,  be  faithful,  and  He  who  knows 
our  weaknesses,  having  trodden  the  earth  before  us,  will 
bear  you  up  if  your  feet  should  falter. 

"  Be  companions  to  each  other  in  the  journey  of  this 
world,  my  dear  ones,  and  if  it  should  please  God  to  give  you 
children  let  them  be  bonds  to  bind  you  closer  together. 
Above  all,  love  one  another,  for  that  is  the  first  command- 
ment, and  may  He  who  gave  it  guard  and  guide  you  through 
all  the  thorny  paths  of  life." 

The  Bishop's  voice  became  tremulous  toward  the  end,  and 
when  he  finished  there  was  some  coughing  and  blowing  of 
noses  among  the  congregation.  Oscar,  too,  was  breathing 
heavily  by  Thora's  side,  and  Helga  was  trampling  on  her 
train,  but  Thora  herself  was  as  calm  as  a  trustful  child. 

At  the  next  moment  she  was  kneeling  by  Oscar's  side  on 
the  communion  steps — just  where  they  had  knelt  as  children 
to  be  confirmed — and  the  Bishop  was  administering  the 
vows.  There  was  a  breathless  hush  in  the  crowded  cathedral 
during  this  solemn  and  beautiful  ceremony — a  ceremony 
for  ever  new,  for  ever  old,  for  ever  awful — the  consecration 
of  the  man  to  the  woman,  the  woman  to  the  man,  for  better 


110  THE    PKODIGAL    SON 

or  for  worse,  in  sickness  and  in  health,    "  till  death  us  do 
part." 

Oscar  was  still  breathing  heavily,  but  Thora  felt  too 
happy  to  be  agitated,  too  sure  to  be  afraid.  When  the 
Bishop  put  their  hands  together,  and  laid  his  own  hand  on 
the  top  of  them,  she  felt  Oscar's  hand  tremble  and  his  pulse 
throb,  and  she  wanted  to  calm  and  comfort  him.  But  it 
was  all  over  in  a  moment,  for  they  had  risen  to  their  feet, 
and  one  of  the  assistant  clergy  was  giving  out  a  hynm. 

"  Guide  Thy  children,  Father,  guide  them, 
Through  the  thorny  paths  of  life." 

The  choir  began  it,  but  the  congregation  joined  in,  and  all 
the  voices  seemed  to  quiver  with  emotion.  Thora  felt  herself 
carried  away,  far  away,  but  still  she  was  holding  Oscar's 
hand.  She  thought  she  could  hear  Magnus's  voice  among 
the  voices  behind  her — the  deep  voice  she  used  to  hear  on 
those  evenings  so  long  ago.  Poor  Magnus !  But  then  he 
could  have  had  no  joy  of  her,  so  it  was  better  even  for  him. 

It  was  something  of  a  descent  when  the  hymn  ended  and 
the  Bishop  shook  hands  with  her,  and  the  Governor  followed 
his  example,  and  the  bridesmaids  came  up  and  kissed  her 
in  the  presence  of  the  whole  congregation.  But  Oscar  gave 
her  his  arm,  and  as  they  moved  down  the  nave  the  organ 
and  choir  began  again: 

'*  0  Perfect  Love,  all  human  thought  transcending, 
Lowly  we  kneel  in  prayer  before  Thy  throne. " 

She  was  now  sure  she  could  hear  Magnus,  and  looking 
up  at  the  organ  loft  she  saw  him.  Yes,  he  was  there;  he 
was  in  the  choir;  he  had  come  back  from  the  Northlands  to 
sing  at  her  wedding. 

"  That  theirs  may  be  the  joy  that  knows  no  ending, 
Whom  Thou  for  evermore  dost  join  in  one — " 

She  had  only  one  glance  at  his  face,  but  she  saw  it  plainly. 
She  had  never  seen  it  like  that  before — so  broken  up,  and  so 
soft,  yet  so  strong  and  brave.     His  eyes  were  steadfastly 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  111 

fixed  on  his  music  book,  and  he  was  swaying  a  little  and 
singing  as  with  all  his  might. 

"  Grant  them  the  joy  which  brightens  earthly  sorrow, 
Grant  them  the  peace  which  calms  all  earthly  strife — " 

But  Magnus  was  whirled  away  from  her  in  a  moment,  for 
the  people  whispered  as  she  was  going  past.  "  Dear  Thora ! 
God  bless  our  Thora  !  " 

Oscar  was  bowing  on  both  sides  of  the  aisle,  and  the  people 
were  talking  to  him  also.  "  How  handsome  he  looks !  "  "  He 
looks  as  if  he  could  take  care  of  her,  too ! "  "  Take  care  of 
her,  Oscar !  " 

They  were  back  in  the  porch  at  length,  and  somebody  was 
putting  her  plush  cloak  over  her  shoulders.  Silvertop  was 
standing  outside,  and  Hans  the  sailor  (in  his  new  sleeve 
waistcoat)  was  giving  him  water  out  of  his  pail. 

Oscar  lifted  her  to  the  saddle,  and  they  turned  their  faces 
homeward.  The  bells  began  to  ring  again — a  merry  peal — 
and  then,  at  last,  Thora's  tears  began  to  flow.  How  good 
everybody  had  been  to  her!  It  was  all  for  Oscar's  sake! 
How  sweet  to  think  they  were  good  to  her  for  the  sake  of 
Oscar!     Thank  God  for  Oscar! 


Anna  and  Aunt  Margret  were  at  the  door  of  the  Factor's 
house  fX)  receive  them.  They  kissed  Thora,  and  called  her 
"  Mrs.  Stephenson,"  and  then  took  her  up-stairs  to  change. 
When  she  came  down  again  the  friends  invited  to  the  wed- 
ding feast  were  coming  in  quickly,  taking  off  their  snow- 
shoes,  shaking  hands  with  Oscar,  and  talking  all  at  once. 

The  table  was  laid  in  the  double  sitting-room  which  had 
been  the  scene  of  the  betrothal.  The  Factor  sat  at  the  head 
with  Oscar  on  his  right  (just  in  the  place  where  he  had 
trodden  on  Helga's  photograph),  and  Thora  on  his  left 
(where  Magnus  had  sat  on  the  low  seat  beside  his  mother), 
■while  the  Governor  faced  the  Factor,  with  Anna  and  Aunt 
Margret  at  either  side  of  him,  and  the  Bishop,  the  Sheriff, 


112  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

and  the  Doctor  between.  Helga  sat  midway  down  the  table, 
"with  Neils  Finsen  on  one  side  of  her  and  the  Rector  on  the 
other. 

Thora  was  bashful  but  bright,  reddening  a  little  with 
maidenly  reserve  when  pointed  remarks  were  made  to  her, 
hut  filling  the  room  with  musical  laughter.  During  the  meal 
nearly  everybody  raised  his  glass  to  her,  and  at  the  end  of 
it  the  Governor  rose,  bowed  to  her  dovsm  the  table  with 
a  stately  grace,  and  began  to  speak. 

"  I  rise,"  said  the  Governor,  "  to  propose  the  health  of  the 
bride  and  bridegroom.  We  are  all  happy  in  the  marriage 
which  has  just  been  celebrated,  and  no  one  can  be  more  happy 
than  myself.  It  had  been  for  many  years  the  dearest  hope 
of  my  heart  that  the  life-long  friendship  between  Factor 
Neilsen  and  myself  might  be  cemented  in  our  children  by 
a  still  closer  bond." 

"  Your  health,  old  friend,"  interrupted  the  Factor,  raising* 
his  glass,  and  the  Governor  stopped  to  drink  with  him. 

"  Time  was,  perhaps,"  he  continued,  "  when  I  feared  lest 
this  hope  might  be  frustrated." 

"  No,  no !  "  said  the  Factor,  while  Thora  dropped  her 
head,  Anna  sighed  audibly,  and  there  was  silence  for  a  mo- 
ment, as  if  the  spirit  of  some  one  who  was  not  present  had 
passed  through  the  room. 

"  But  sweet  is  the  bliss  that  follows  bale,"  said  the  Gov- 
ernor, "  and  thank  God  we  are  now  of  one  mind  and  one 
family." 

When  the  glasses  of  the  company  had  ceased  to  jingle,  the 
Governor  went  on  to  speak  of  Thora.  "  She  has  always  been 
like  a  daughter  in  our  house,  and  now  she  is  our  daughter 
indeed.  We  have  loved  her  all  her  life,  and  to-day  we  have 
given  her  the  best  we  had  to  give  to  any  one — our  son,  our 
favorite  son,  the  idol  of  our  hopes  and  the  pride  of  our 
hearts.    God  bless  both  of  them !  " 

As  soon  as  the  Factor  had  done  wiping  his  eyes  with  his 
print  handkerchief  he  rose  with  a  laugh  and  said: 

"  Stem  before  stern  when  the  sea  gets  up,  and  I'm  not 
much  used  to  pulling  backward,  but  I'm  with  the  Governor 
in  thanking  God  that  the  storm  that  threatened  has  blown 
over  and  we  are  sailing  in  smooth  water.    As  for  Oscar,  he 


THE    TEODIGAL    SON  113 

has  been  my  godson  ever  since  he  was  anything ;  and  to-day 
he  has  become  my  son,  and  I  could  not  wish  for  a  better. 

"  And  now,"  said  the  Factor,  as  soon  as  he  was  allowed  to 
go  on,  "  a  small  promise  kept  is  better  than  a  big  one  for- 
gotten, and  I'm  going  to  keep  a  little  promise  which  I  made 
on  the  day  of  the  betrothal.  Perhaps  some  of  you  wouldn't 
think  it,  but  I  believe  in  young  people  enjoying  their  youth 
while  they've  got  any.  I  managed  to  miss  mine  somehow, 
and  it's  been  work,  work,  work  with  me  all  my  days.  The 
same  with  the  Governor ;  it's  been  work,  work,  work  with  him 
too,  and  we  haven't  had  a  holiday  between  us.  But  we  are  go- 
ing to  have  a  holiday  now — we're  going  to  travel  to  the  sunny 
south  lands,  where  the  ground  and  the  sea  aren't  white  like 
this  and  that."  (The  Factor  waved  his  hands  toward  the 
windows  front  and  back.)  "  Yes,  we're  going  to  see  the 
world  in  our  old  age,  the  Governor  and  I,  but  it's  got  to  be 
with  eyes  that  are  better  than  ours  are  now — the  eyes  of  our 
children." 

"  What's  more,"  continued  the  Factor,  when  the  company 
were  again  quiet,  "  we're  not  going  to  grudge  the  expense 
either,  and  if  Oscar  will  look  under  his  bottom  plate  he'll 
find  a  little  oil  that  will  grease  the  wheels  on  the  way." 

Oscar  lifted  his  fruit  plate  and  took  up  two  checks,  and 
when  the  toast  had  been  honored  he  rose  to  reply.  Nobody 
had  ever  before  seen  him  so  pale,  so  nervous,  or  so  serious. 

"  I  thank  the  Governor  and  the  Factor,"  he  said,  "  for  the 
splendid  present  they  have  given  us — so  much  more  than  we 
can  possibly  require  on  our  journey.  I  thank  you  all  for 
coming  to  our  wedding — it  is  so  pleasant  to  be  surrounded 
by  the  people  who  have  known  us  all  our  lives,  '  Find  your 
wife  among  your  friends,'  says  one  of  our  Sagas.  I  have 
found  mine  almost  in  my  family,  and  I  trust  the  two 
branches  now  made  one  may  never  be  divided  as  the  result 
of  what  we  have  done  this  morning." 

There  was  some  applause,  and  when  Oscar  began  again  his 
voice  faltered  and  broke. 

"  I  thank  the  Bishop,  too,"  he  said,  "  for  the  words — the 
wise  and  touching  words — he  spoke  in  marrying  us.  I  know 
that  love — love  is  the  only  foundation  of  a  true  marriage, 
and  I — I  trust  my  marriage  is  a  true  one.    I  do  not  love  my 


114  THE    mODIGAL    SON 

wife  as  mueli  as  I  ought — as  much  as  she  deserves.  I  can 
never  do  that;  it  is  impossible,  but  I  hope  to  love  her  more 
and  more  as  time  goes  on,  and  to  fly  from  every  temptation 
to  love  her  less,  I  know  I  am  not  worthy  of  the  dear  good 
girl  who  has  given  herself  to  me  to-day,  but  I  will  try  so 
to  live  that  she  may  never  regret  it.  Often  forgive  the 
woman's  faults,  says  another  of  our  Sagas,  but  a  truer  word 
in  this  case  would  be  forgive  the  man's,  and  I  pray  God  my 
wife  may  never  have  too  much  to  forgive." 

When  Oscar  sat  down  the  men  thought  his  speech  had 
been  a  little  affected  and  far-fetched,  but  there  was  not  a 
woman  in  the  room  who  did  not  want  to  leap  up  and  kiss 
him.  Thora  was  openly  wiping  her  eyes,  but  her  face  was 
one  high  noon  of  enjoyment,  and  in  the  buzz  which  followed 
the  silence  Aunt  Margret  called  across  to  her. 

"  Mrs.  Stephenson,  you  had  better  take  care  of  your  hus- 
band or  some  of  these  young  women  will  run  away  with  him." 

There  were  other  toasts,  "  The  Governor,"  "  The  Factor," 
and  finally,  "  The  Bridesmaids,"  proposed  by  the  Rector  in 
a  playful  speech. 

"  They  say  a  kiss  isn't  the  same  thing  from  all  women," 
he  said,  "  and  being  an  old  bachelor  I  know  nothing  about 
that ;  but  the  young  fellow  on  my  left"  (the  Rector  indicated 
oSTeils  Finsen),  "who  has  a  right  to  consider  himself  the  best 
man  in  Iceland  to-day,  has  confessed  to  me  in  a  whisper  that 
he  finds  one  of  the  bridesmaids  so  charming  and  beautiful' 
that  if  he  had  been  in  Oscar's  place,  and  compelled  by  a 
narrow-minded  law  to  choose  between  the  Factor's  two  daugh- 
ters, he  would  have  cut  off  to  some  eastern  country  where  he 
could  have  married  both." 

Everybody  laughed  and  looked  at  Helga,  who  had  herself 
been  laughing  rather  hysterically,  and  looking  at  Oscar  all 
through  dinner.  And  then  Thora,  who  was  overflowing 
with  happiness,  glanced  down  at  her  sister,  and  remem- 
bered the  great  scheme  she  had  conceived  to  make  amends 
for  mistrusting  and  suspecting  her.  Now  was  the  moment 
to  carry  it  into  effect — now  that  she  was  queen  in  her  little 
kingdom — and,  half  bold,  half  shy,  she  rose  from  her  seat, 
put  her  arms  about  her  father's  neck,  and  whispered  some- 
thing in  his  ear. 


THE    PEODIGAL    SON  115 

The  Factor's  face  straightened  for  a  moment,  then  broad- 
ened again,  and  he  said,  "  But  what  does  Oscar  say? " 

"  Oscar  will  be  sure  to  agree,"  said  Thora,  and  she  whis- 
pered in  her  father's  ear  again. 

"  Well,  I'm  not  going  back  on  my  word ;  I'm  willing ;  but 
you  must  ask  Oscar." 

Then,  laughing  and  reddening,  Thora  crept  up  behind 
Oscar  and  whispered  in  his  ear  also,  while  looking  sideways 
down  at  Helga.  As  Oscar  listened  his  face  became  serious 
and  he  said: 

"  But  you  are  quite  sure  that  you  wish  it,  Thora  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes,"  said  Thora,  laughing  and  blushing,  for 
now  the  eyes  of  the  whole  company  were  on  her. 

"  Let  us  talk  of  it  to-morrow,"  said  Oscar. 

"  No,  no,  now,"  said  Thora. 

"  But  perhaps  Helga  herself — "  began  Oscar,  and  then 
he  stopped,  whereupon  Helga,  hearing  her  own  name,  said 
with  a  nervous  laugh: 

"What  is  that  about  Helga?" 

"  Yes,  what  is  it  ? "  said  several  voices  at  once,  and  then 
the  Factor  explained. 

"  Thora  wants  to  have  her  sister  to  accompany  them  on 
their  tour,  and  she  is  trying  to  persuade  Oscar." 

There  were  some  unconvincing  cries  of  "  Why  not  ? "  and 
*'  Splendid !  "  and  then  there  was  silence,  broken  only  by 
Thora's  voice  saying : 

"  Please,  Oscar,  please !  " 

It  was  the  last  thing  Oscar  could  have  expected — to  have 
temptation  thrown  in  his  way  at  the  moment  when  he  was 
trying  to  escape  from  it;  to  have  the  flood-gate  of  passion 
opened  afresh  after  he  had  struggled  so  hard  to  dam  it — and 
to  have  this  done  by  Thora  herself,  in  her  blind  unselfishness 
and  innocent  joy,  as  if  the  powers  of  hell  were  making  game 
of  her. 

But  the  company  were  waiting  for  Oscar's  answer;  and, 
not  to  betray  himself,  he  tried  to  escape  by  banter.  "  I'm 
not  like  Neils — I  don't  want  both  of  you,"  he  said;  but  still 
the  pleading,  coaxing  voice  was  at  his  ear,  saying : 

"  Please,  Oscar,  please,  please !  "  And  when  Oscar  con- 
tinued to  hesitate  the  Kector  said : 


116  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  Tut,  tut,  Oscar,  refusing  your  wife's  first  request  is  a 
bad  beginning." 

"  I'm  not  refusing,"  said  Oscar,  "  and  if  Helga  berself 
really  and  truly  thinks  she  would  like  to  go  with  us " 

"  Would  you  like  to  go,  Helga  ?  "  asked  the  Factor,  and 
then  there  was  another  moment's  hesitation,  in  which  Helga, 
biting  her  lower  lip  with  a  fierceness  which  betrayed  the 
struggle  in  her  soul,  looked  across  at  Oscar  as  if  trying  to 
read  in  his  face  what  her  answer  was  to  be. 

"  Tell  her  to  say  yes,  Oscar,"  said  Thora. 

"  Yes,"  said  Helga,  and  at  the  next  moment  Thora  was 
clapping  her  hands  in  triumphant  delight  and  making  the 
room  ring  with  her  laughter. 

^JsTeils  Finsen  had  sat  down  to  the  piano  and  the  servants 
were  clearing  the  table  to  make  way  for  dancing,  when  Anna 
came  up  behind  Thora  and  whispered : 

"  Somebody  outside  wishes  to  see  you,  Thora." 

"Is  it  perhaps ?" 

"  Yes,  dear,"  said  Anna,  and  Thora  followed  her  out  of  the 
room. 


XI 

Magnus  was  waiting  in  the  hall,  dressed  in  snow  stockings 
and  a  long  cape  overcoat,  rough  and  worn  and  belted  about 
the  waist.  His  face  was  stamped  with  the  deep  lines  which 
in  a  strong  man  stand  for  resignation  and  in  a  weak  one  for 
despair.  Thora  thought  she  had  never  seen  him  look  so  big 
and  brawny,  but  his  voice  when  he  spoke  to  her  was  as  soft 
as  a  woman's,  and  he  broke  into  the  sunniest  of  smiles. 
She  closed  the  door  of  the  sitting-room  to  shut  out  the  sound 
of  the  piano,  and  then  came  fonvard  and  held  out  her  hand, 
feeling  little  and  weak  in  her  kirtle  and  the  bridal  crown 
across  her  forehead. 

"  I  came  to  say  good-by  and  to  wish  you  a  good  voyage," 
he  said. 

"  I'm  so  glad  you've  come,"  said  Thora.  "  I  heard  you 
had  gone  away,  and  I  was  afraid  I  was  going  to  miss  you." 

"  I've  brought  you  this  for  a  wedding  present,"  said  Mag- 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  117 

nus,  taking  up  from  the  hall  table  a  large  white  bear's  skin 
which  Thora  had  not  noticed  before. 

"  What  a  magnificent  rug !  "  said  Thora. 

"  Is  it  a  good  one  ?  "  said  Magnus. 

"  It  is  perfectly  beautiful.  I  have  never  seen  anything 
like  it.    It  must  have  cost  you  a  fortune." 

"  'No,  not  a  great  deal.    I  bought  it  in  the  Northlands." 

"  Then  it  was  to  get  this  that  you  went  there  ? " 

«  Yes." 

*'  In  the  winter,  too — such  a  long,  cold  journey!  " 

"  I  am  strong,  Thora — I  never  feel  the  cold." 

His  sad  eyes  were  glistening,  and  Thora's  throat  was  thick. 

"I  shall  use  it  on  the  ship  and  in  the  train  and  every- 
where," she  said.  "  And  whenever  I  use  it  I  will  always  think 
of  you." 

"Will  you?" 

"  Indeed  I  will.    But  we  are  going  south,  you  know," 

"  I  know." 

"  To  England  and  France — perhaps  to  Italy." 

"It  will  do  you  good,  Thora.  The  sun  will  do  you  good. 
And  you  will  see  the  fruit  and  the  flowers  growing — it  will 
be  beautiful." 

"Will  it  not?" 

The  piano  was  becoming  louder,  and  there  was  a  sound  of 
shuffling  feet — the  people  in  the  sitting-room  were  beginning 
to  dance. 

"  And  what  do  you  think — Helga  is  going  with  us,"  said 
Thora. 

"Helga!" 

"Didn't  Anna  tell  you?" 

"  Is  Helga  to  go  with  you  to  Italy  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  and  we  are  delighted  to  have  her.  She's  so 
clever  and  bright — Oscar  can  never  be  dull  for  a  moment 
while  Helga  is  with  us." 

The  grave  face  looked  sideways  for  a  moment,  and  then 
he  said,  in  a  still  gentler  voice: 

"  I  hope  you'll  be  happy  on  your  journey,  Thora." 

"  I'm  sure  I  shall.  We  shall  all  be  happy.  We  sail  by  the 
*  Laura  '  to-morrow  morning." 

"  So  mother  told  me — I've  been  taking  your  baggage  aboard 
and  seeing  to  your  cabin." 


118  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  And  you  have  been  doing  that  while  we ** 

"  I  wanted  to  do  something  for  you,  Thora." 

"  But,  Magnus,  you  ought  to  have  been  here  by  rights. 
Oscar  always  wished  it.  In  fact  he  wanted  you  to  be  his  best 
man." 

"Oscar  did?" 

"  Indeed  he  did,  but  you  couldn't  be  found,  because  you 
had  gone  on  your  journey." 

Over  the  sound  of  the  music  and  the  dancing  the  Gover- 
nor's voice  came  from  within,  mingled  with  the  Factor's 
hearty  laughter. 

"  Perhaps  it  was  just  as  well  I  was  away,"  said  Magnus. 
"  The  old  people  have  never  forgiven  me  for  what  I  did,  and 
if  they  ever  came  to  suspect  that  somebody  else  was  respon- 
sible  " 

He  stopped,  and  then  Thora  dropped  her  eyes  and  said : 

"  I  was  so  glad  you  were  in  the  cathedral." 

"  It  was  beautiful,"  said  Magnus. 

"  You  have  no  feeling  against  Oscar  now  ?  " 

"  Not  now.  When  I  saw  you  kneeling  together  at  the  com- 
munion rails  I  thought  of  the  day  when  we  all  knelt  there. 
And  then — then  Oscar  was  my  little  brother  once  again." 

"  Magnus — won't  you — won't  you  kiss  me  ?  " 

He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  but  she  held  her  sweet  face 
up  to  him — pure  as  a  saint's  and  wet  with  tears — and  he 
opened  his  great  arms  and  gathered  the  little  white  figure 
to  his  breast  and  kissed  her  on  the  forehead  under  the  bridal 
crown. 

"  Good-by,  little  girl,  and  God  bless  you  and  make  you 
very  happy.  But  if  you  ever  want  me  say  *  Come,'  and  I'll 
come  to  you — if  it's  to  the  farthest  corner  of  the  earth." 

Thora  began  to  cry  audibly  and  Magnus  bustled  about 
and  made  for  the  door.  He  must  be  off,  he  had  a  long  jour- 
ney before  him. 

"  And  then  Silvertop  is  outside — I  mxist  not  keep  him 
waiting. 

"Silvertop?" 

"  Mother  told  me  to  take  care  of  him  until  you  return — so 
I'm  taking  him  back  to  the  farm." 

"  Let  me  say  good-by  to  him,"  said  Thora. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  119 

Magnus  covered  her  from  head  to  foot  in  the  bear's  skin 
and  led  her  down  the  steps  to  the  street.  It  was  dark,  but  the 
stars  were  out  and  the  northern  lights  were  cleaving  the  sky 
as  with  the  sweep  of  a  mighty  saber.  All  was  white  and 
silent,  save  for  the  deadened  beat  of  the  piano  and  the  thud 
of  the  feet  of  the  dancers.  Two  horses,  saddled  and  bridled, 
otood  quietly  in  the  snow  with  their  reins  hanging  over  their 
heads,  and  Magnus,  mounting  one  of  them,  said : 

"  This  is  Golden  Mane — Silvertop's  big  brother." 

Thora  found  her  own  pony,  stroked  its  ears  and  kissed  its 
nose,  and  then  fled  back  to  the  door  out  of  the  frosty  air. 

"  Good  brothers  go  well  together ;  we'll  be  home  by  mid- 
night," cried  Magnus. 

Thora  watched  them  go.  A  glittering  shaft  of  the  aurora 
lit  up  the  three  as  they  turned  the  corner  of  the  road — 
Magnus  riding  Golden  Mane,  and  Silvertop,  with  an  empty 
saddle,  running  briskly  beside  him. 


xn 

When  Thora  returned  to  the  sitting-room  Oscar  and 
Helga,  both  with  sparkling  eyes  and  flushed  faces,  were 
waltzing  vigorously.  Then  Thora  herself  danced  with  the 
Governor,  the  Factor,  the  Rector,  and,  of  course,  with  Oscar. 
But  the  room  grew  hot  and  stuffy,  too  full  of  excitement, 
and  after  a  while  Thora  became  pale  and  faint.  Seeing  this, 
after  Aunt  Margret  had  called  attention  to  it,  Oscar  began 
to  say  it  was  time  to  break  up.  The  young  men  bantered 
him  ("Want  to  get  rid  of  us,  eh?")  and  Helga,  who  grew 
more  and  more  hysterical,  protested  that  the  evening  was 
still  young,  but  Oscar  sent  his  bride  up-stairs  to  prepare  for 
the  journey  to  her  husband's  house. 

"  Let  us  all  take  her  home,  then,"  said  one  of  the  brides- 
maids, and  when  Thora  reappeared,  muffled  up  for  her  night 
walk,  with  only  eyes,  nose,  and  mouth  visible,  she  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  group  of  merry  girls,  similarly  bandaged,  and 
chirping  over  her  like  linnets  in  spring. 

At  last  the  final  moment  came  when  Thora  had  to  leave  her 


120  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

father's  house  for  good,  and  then  Aunt  Margret,  whose  face 
had  become  grotesquely  long  and  watery,  broke  down  alto- 
gether. 

"  It's  no  use,"  she  said.  "  I'm  losing  her,  and  I  don't  know 
what  they'll  do  with  my  precious  now." 

"  Nonsense,  Margret,"  said  the  Factor.  "  Oscar  will  take 
care  of  her." 

"  He'd  better,  or  I'll  murder  him,"  said  Aunt  Margret ; 
and  the  idea  of  Aunt  Margret  murdering  anybody  was  so 
amusing  to  the  company  that  they  broke  up  merrily. 

The  Factor's  family  went  to  the  door  to  see  them  off,  and 
Helga,  who  was  hot  with  dancing  and  excitement,  but  wore 
no  wraps,  stood  on  the  top  of  the  steps  holding  a  lamp  above 
her  head  to  light  them  down  the  road.  It  was  a  paraffin, 
lamp  with  a  glass  reservoir,  but  she  paid  no  heed  to  any 
warning. 

"  Take  care,  Helga,  do  take  care,"  said  Oscar,  but  she 
only  cried : 

"  Good  night,  pleasant  dreams !  "  and  continued  to  wave 
the  flickering  lamp  above  her  head. 

"  Helga,  for  mercy's  sake,  Helga !  "  shouted  Oscar,  and 
Thora  said : 

"  Yes,  dear,  don't  let  us  have  an  accident  on  our  wedding- 
day." 

"  The  better  the  day  the  better  the  deed,"  cried  Helga,  and 
she  sent  a  ringing,  hysterical  laugh  after  them  as  they  disap- 
peared in  the  darkness. 

The  wedding  party  went  off  in  two  batches,  Oscar  in  the 
midst  of  the  young  men,  whose  arms  were  round  his  shoul- 
ders, and  Thora  in  the  midst  of  the  young  women,  who  were 
holding  her  by  the  waist  and  stopping  at  intervals  to  whisper 
mischievous  messages  in  her  ears.  The  crisp  snow  crackled 
under  their  feet,  and  the  starry  sky,  with  its  northern  lights, 
pulsed  and  throbbed  like  the  hearts  in  their  bosoms. 

When  they  came  to  the  gate  of  Government  House  some- 
body suggested  that  Oscar,  as  a  zealous  Sagaman,  ought  to 
carry  out  the  ancient  custom  of  lifting  his  bride  across  the 
threshold;  and  then  to  Thora's  delight,  amid  a  squealing 
chorus  of  laughter,  Oscar  picked  her  up  in  his  arms  and 
isarried  her  into  the  house,  where  Anna  (who  had  gone  oi> 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  121 

ahead)  smuggled  her  up-stairs  while  the  others  went  into 
the  drawing-room  to  drink  the  last  toast  before  parting. 

A  bright  fire  was  burning  in  the  bridal  chamber,  the  cur- 
tains were  drawn,  the  bed  was  laid  open,  and  the  room  looked 
like  a  white  nest  of  eiderdown  when  Thora,  with  a  fluttering 
heart,  stepped  into  it. 

"  What  a  day  it  has  been !  "  she  said. 

"  Hasn't  it  ? "  said  Anna,  closing  the  door  behind  them. 

"  Well.  I  can  always  say  I  had  a  wonderful  wedding-day, 
can't  I?" 

"Indeed,  you  can.  A  woman  has  only  two  days  in  her 
life  that  are  her  own — her  very  own — and  her  wedding-day 
is  one  of  them." 

"  And  what  is  the  other  day,  Anna  ? " 

"  The  other  ?  Oh,  the  other  day  is  too  far  away  for  you 
to  think  about  it  yet,  but  all  the  days  between  belong  to 
somebody  else — her  children  or  her  husband." 

"  But  how  sweet !  How  beautiful !  To  live  in  your  hus- 
band, to  give  up  everything  to  him,  your  life,  yourself,  every- 
thing !    There's  happiness  in  that,  isn't  there,  Anna  ?  " 

"Indeed,  there  is,  my  dear,  and  pain,  too,  perhaps.  But 
there's  something  better  in  this  life  than  happiness,  Thora, 
and  that's  blessedness,  you  know." 

This  made  Thora  think  of  Magnus,  but  she  heard  Oscar 
laughing  in  the  room  below,  and  soon  forgot  everything  else 
in  a  delicious  shuddering  which  suddenly  came  over  her. 
Anna  helped  her  to  undress,  and  when  the  crown  and  the 
kirtle  were  laid  aside,  she  moved  about  for  some  moments 
without  speaking.    Then  she  said,  softly : 

"  Will  you  go  to  bed  now,  dearest,  or  shall  I  give  you  your 
dressing-gown  ? " 

"  Give  me  my  dressing-gown,"  said  Thora  faintly. 

Anna  moved  about  on  tiptoe  a  moment  or  two  longer, 
turning  the  lamp  down  and  fixing  the  shade.  Then  she 
opened  the  door  and  stood  for  an  instant  on  the  threshold 
looking  back  at  Thora  where  she  sat  combing  out  her  hair 
before  the  stove.  All  at  once  her  middle-aged,  homely  face 
became  young  and  beautiful  by  the  magic  of  a  memory  of 
her  own,  and  going  softly  back  she  kissed  Thora  without 
saying  a  word,  and  then  crept  silently  out  of  the  room. 
9 


122  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

Left  alone,  Thora  looked  timidly  around  her,  and  seeing 
things  of  Oscar's  lying  among  her  own  she  felt  a  new  and 
still  more  deliciou3  sense  of  happiness.  During  the  days 
preceding  the  wedding  she  had  thought  that  as  soon  as  the 
service  in  the  cathedral  had  come  to  an  end  and  she  was 
Oscar's  wife  a  mysterious  change  would  come  over  her,  but 
that  had  not  been  so,  and  all  day  long  she  had  felt  quite  the 
same.  But  now  it  was  different,  and  in  this  room  she  had 
become  another  being — not  herself  only,  but  Oscar  also. 
It  was  very  sweet  and  beautiful,  but  it  was  a  little  fright- 
ening, too,  and  to  ease  her  fast-beating  heart  she  got  into  bed 
and  covered  up  her  face. 

She  could  hear  the  company  breaking  up  below,  and  a 
little  later  she  heard  their  footsteps  crunching  the  snow 
under  her  window,  which  fronted  the  road.  They  stood  there 
and  sang  a  bridal  song.  It  was  the  song  of  the  "  Two 
Eoses." 

The  winter  was  cold  and  the  groimd  was  white,  but  two 
roses  of  love  still  grew  in  the  garden  of  God.  The  frost 
could  not  freeze  the  two  roses  of  love,  for  they  were  warmed 
by  the  air  of  heaven ;  the  sun  could  not  scorch  the  two  roses 
of  love,  for  they  were  watered  from  the  well  of  life.  Two 
roses  of  love  on  a  single  stem ;  two  roses  of  love  in  two  fond 
young  hearts;  two  roses  of  love  and  joy! 

When  the  song  came  to  an  end  there  was  some  merry  gig- 
gling under  the  window,  followed  by  shouts  of  "  Good  night, 
Thora  !  "  "  Happy  di-eams !  "  Then  as  the  company  went 
off  they  started  the  bridal  song  again,  and  in  her  mind's  eye 
Thora  could  see  them  going  back  to  the  town,  arm  in  arm, 
young  girls  and  young  men. 

Thora  listened  to  the  voices  dying  down  the  street,  and 
for  a  moment  all  life  seemed  to  be  set  to  the  music  of  love; 
Oscar  and  she  would  be  children  always,  never  growing  older, 
but  rambling  hand  in  hand  through  a  flowery  world  where 
everybody  loved  them  and  they  loved  everybody,  and  there 
could  be  no  real  trouble  because  love  was  all  in  all. 

But  just  then  the  cathedral  clock  struck  eleven,  and  she 
remembered  Magnus.  She  could  see  him  crossing  the  deso- 
late white  heath  imder  the  shooting  stream  of  the  northern 
lights — a  lonesome  man  riding  one    horse,  while    another. 


THE    TRODIGAL    SON  12S 

with  an  empty  saddle,  was  running  by  his  side.  Poor  Mag- 
nus !    But  there  was  no  help  for  it ! 

The  voices  died  away  in  the  distance,  and  there  was  a  mo- 
ment of  silence  in  the  cozy  nest — a  warm,  muffled,  secret 
kind  of  silence,  broken  by  nothing  but  the  underthrob  of 
the  ceaseless  sea.  Thora  closed  her  eyes  and  held  her  breath. 
How  happy  she  was !  She  was  trembling  like  a  bird  caught 
and  held  in  the  hand,  but  even  her  fear  was  full  of  happiness. 

At  the  next  moment  there  was  a  noiseless  footstep  on  the 
floor,  a  sense  of  somebody  in  the  room,  and  then — Oscar 
was  leaning  over  her  and  kissing  her  on  the  lips. 


PAET  III 


Yet  ah,  that  spring  should  vanish  with  the  rose  ! 
That  youth's  sweet-scented  manuscript  should  dost  I 
The  nightingale  that  in  the  branches  sang,, 
Ah,  whence f  and  whither  fiown  again,  who  knows  * 


The  wedding  being  over,  and  the  wedding  party  gone, 
Anna  went  on  a  visit  to  Magnus  in  order  to  bear  him  com- 
pany during  the  first  weeks  of  his  first  winter,  and  to  see 
that  his  house  was  in  order. 

The  farm  was  thirty-odd  miles  from  the  capital,  not  far 
from  the  scene  of  the  sheep-gathering  and  in  the  middle  of 
the  great  plain  of  Thingvellir — an  historic  spot,  formerly 
the  place  of  the  Icelandic  parliament,  for  the  neglected 
Mount  of  Laws  may  still  be  seen  there. 

There  were  only  two  houses  on  the  plain — the  farmhouse 
and  the  parsonage,  with  its  little  church  beside  it.  The 
farmhouse  was  the  larger  of  the  two,  and  being  on  the  line 
of  road  from  the  capital  to  the  chief  market  of  the  Northland 
it  had  become  a  resting  place  for  travelers. 

The  Inn-farm  had  belonged  to  Anna's  family  for  many 
generations  and  her  father  had  been  the  last  to  hold  it.  He 
was  a  worthy  man,  silent  and  serious,  much  like  Magnus  in 
personal  character,  but  he  left  the  place  badly  embarrassed, 
having  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  defaulting  factor.  After 
his  daughter  married  he  lost  his  wife  and  then  he  died  sud- 
denly— people  said  of  drink.  Since  then  the  astate  had  been 
twenty  years  in  the  hands  of  a  steward,  but  the  Governor 
had  paid  off  the  mortgage  out  of  the  savings  of  his  salary  and 
the  farm  was  free. 

It  was  an  endless  delight  to  Anna  to  bring  the  place  back 
to  Its  former  condition.  She  began  with  the  sleeping  accom- 
modation, for  sin  comes  with  a  laugh,  she  said,  but  goes  with 
134 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  125 

a  cry.  The  shepherd  and  his  wife  she  put  in  the  upper  bed- 
room (the  Badstofa),  the  maids  in  the  lower  one,  and  the 
farm-boys  in  the  loft.  Each  of  the  rooms  was  under  its  own 
roof,  and  the  homestead  as  a  whole  was  less  like  a  single 
house  than  a  group  of  houses,  or  like  a  gipsy  encampment, 
with  its  peaked  tents  going  off  in  different  directions.  The 
principal  apartment  was  a  large  square  hall,  with  two  guest- 
rooms opening  out  of  it.  Magnus  was  to  sleep  in  one  of 
these  guest  rooms,  except  when  both  were  wanted  for  trav- 
elers, and  then  he  was  to  lie  on  a  mattress  stretched  on  the 
floor. 

Anna  inspected  the  kitchen  (the  Elt  House)  and  the 
storehouse  (the  Skemma) — examined  the  winter's  stock  o£ 
potted  meat  and  dried  and  salted  cod  and  whale,  and  put  a 
lock  on  the  Bur,  for  seldom  does  the  servant-maid  starve  in, 
the  larder,  she  said.  Finally  she  turned  her  attention  ta 
the  Hall,  which  was  the  general  living  room,  and  furnished 
it  afresh  with  a  settle,  an  armchair,  a  Bornhome  clock,  and. 
a  big  German  stove.  As  a  finishing  stroke  she  hung  two 
large  photographs  on  the  walls,  one  of  the  Governor,  the 
other  of  herself.  The  Governor  was  gorgeous  in  his  gold- 
braided  uniform,  but  she  was  homely  in  her  black  hufa,  and 
on  second  thoughts  she  would  have  taken  her  own  picture 
down  but  Magnus  said  something  nice  about  it  and  she  al- 
lowed it  to  remain. 

Anna's  visit  was  a  long  one,  but  as  often  as  she  prepared 
to  go,  saying  home  was  the  best  place  for  the  stupid,  Magnus 
answered  that  in  that  case  Gudrun  must  unpack  her  trunk, 
for  the  Governor  could  not  be  expecting  her.  In  this  way  she 
stayed  at  Thingvellir  until  the  snow  began  to  be  honey- 
combed by  the  thaw  and  the  ribs  of  the  landscape  to  be  re- 
vealed again. 

Meantime  her  life  at  the  farm  was  simple  and  primitive 
and  every  day  had  its  own  duty.  Before  it  was  light  in  the 
morning  she  rang  the  bell  in  the  hall  which  awakened  the 
household,  and  sent  the  maids  to  the  shippons  and  the  boys 
to  the  beasts  in  their  pens.  And  when  the  short  day  had 
closed  in  she  rang  the  bell  again  for  supper,  and  finally  for 
prayers,  when  the  house-father  (Magnus  now)  gave  out  a 
hymn  and  read  a  lesson. 


126  THE    PEODIGAL    SON 

On  Sunday  she  went  to  church,  and  met  the  fifty-odd 
people  who  had  ridden  over  from  the  farms  that  bordered  the 
plain.  She  sat  in  the  seat  in  front  of  the  communion  rail, 
with  its  picture  of  Christ  in  white  robes  among  warm  eastern 
foliage.  Magnus  sat  in  the  choir  and  put  up  the  figures  on 
the  plate  that  gave  the  numbers  of  the  hymns.  He  had 
little  voice  and  no  music,  but  Anna  listened  and  was  happy. 

Though  the  nights  were  long  the  household  was  never 
idle.  While  the  servants  had  to  mend  and  make  blankets  in 
their  own  quarters,  Magnus  would  weave  on  a  loom  he  set 
up  in  the  hall  and  his  mother  would  spin  or  knit  stockings. 
He  was  full  of  great  projects  again,  and  though  his  former 
schemes  were  impossible  to  him  now  he  had  others  of  equal 
consequence. 

What  Iceland  wanted  was  roads ;  roads  were  the  landmarks 
of  civilization;  without  roads  the  most  productive  country 
in  the  world  could  not  prosper,  for  what  was  the  use  of  a 
cow  that  gave  much  milk  if  it  kicked  over  the  pail  ? 

Night  after  night  in  the  pauses  of  the  loom  Anna  had  to 
listen  to  this  story  and  to  assent  to  the  schemes  that  were 
tied  on  to  it.  Yes,  Magnus  was  going  to  be  very  comfortable 
and  she  could  go  home  in  content. 

"  After  all,  perhaps  everything  was  for  the  best,"  she  said, 
*'and  if  there  were  only  a  mistress  in  the  house " 

But  Magnus  rattled  at  the  loom  and  nothing  more  was 
heard  for  some  moments. 

"  John  and  Gudrun  are  very  well,  in  their  way,  but  it's 
thin  blood  that  isn't  thicker  than  water,  and  when  I  go 
back " 

The  loom  rattled  still  louder. 

"  But  a  young  man  who  couldn't  be  satisfied  with  a  girl 
like  Thora  isn't  likely  to  find  many  to  his  liking." 

And  then  the  loom  rattled  louder  than  ever,  and  nothing 
more  was  said  that  night. 

n 

At  intervals  during  Anna's  visit  to  the  farm  there  came 
news  of  the  wedding  party — the  letters  being  sent  on  by  the 
weekly  post  from  Government  House  and  from  the  Factor's. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  127 

The  first  to  come  was  from  England,  and  it  was  a  joint  letter 
to  everybody  written  by  all  three  of  the  wanderers.  Oscar 
began  it,  with  a  playful  review  of  their  journey  from  the 
time  of  the  departure  of  the  "  Laura." 

"  As  soon  as  we  set  foot  on  the  ship  we  were  told  that 
Captain  Limsen  had  given  up  his  own  cabin  to  us,  and  from 
that  hour  to  this  everybody  has  shown  us  boundless  hospi- 
tality, especially  father's  old  college  friends,  the  professor 
at  Oxford  and  the  banker  here  in  London.  Naturally  we 
know  we  owe  everything  to  the  magic  of  the  Governor's 
name,  and  consequently  I  am  cultivating  an  extraordinary 
reverence  for  it,  though  I  doubt  if  I  shall  ever  find  it  more 
beautiful  than  I  did  on  the  morning  of  our  wedding  at  the 
bottom  of  that  splendid  check." 

"  Ha,  ha,  the  mouse  knows  where  to  come  back  for  his 
cheese,"  said  Anna. 

Helga  came  next,  with  a  glowing  account  of  the  London 
theaters,  opera-houses,  and  picture-galleries. 

"  The  half  had  not  been  told  me,  as  the  big  Book  says, 
and  I  wonder  more  than  ever  why  a  poor  girl  should  be> 
doomed  to  waste  her  life  in  a  wilderness  when  she  might 
live  in  a  world  of  so  many  clever  and  beautiful  people." 

"  M'm !  It's  poor  work  pouring  water  on  a  rock,"  said 
Anna. 

Thora  came  last  with  a  rather  sad  little  note.  It  was 
all  very  wonderful,  no  doubt,  but  she  was  feeling  just  a 
wee  bit  home-sick.  Did  not  care  so  very  much  for  operas 
and  picture-galleries,  so  Oscar  had  to  take  Helga  by  herself. 

"  I  like  best  to  sit  in  the  window  of  the  hotel  and  look 
at  the  crowds  in  the  square.  Such  multitudes !  Always  go- 
ing and  coming  and  hardly  anybody  ever  speaking  to  any- 
body else!  That's  what  strikes  you  at  first  as  most  extraor- 
dinary. It  is  so  strange  to  think  that  the  people  in  the 
streets  do  not  even  know  each  other  by  sight,  and  that  every 
young  woman  who  goes  by  has  her  own  family  somewhere — 
her  own  husband  and  perhaps  her  own  children — and  that 
she  is  hurrying  away  to  them.  I  don't  know  why,  but  it 
makes  me  feel  so  lonely,  and  then  I  almost  want  to  be  back 
in  my  dear,  sweet,  homely  old  Iceland." 

Magnus  had  to  read  this  letter  aloud — for  Anna  was  no 


128  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

reader  of  handwriting — and  when  he  came  to  Thora's  part 
his  voice  thickened  and  broke. 

The  next  letter  came  from  Paris,  and  Helga  wrote  the 
whole  of  it. 

"  Such  sights !  Such  luxury !  Such  gaiety !  And  such 
dreams  of  dresses!  And  then  the  opera — Chopin,  Verdi, 
Wagner,  Greig!  We  are  at  the  opera  every  night — that  is 
to  say,  Oscar  and  I  are,  Thora  not  caring  very  much  for 
music.  Thora's  chief  pleasure  is  to  walk  in  the  flower  mar- 
ket by  the  Madeleine  and  watch  the  children  playing,  and 
look  as  if  she  wished  she  were  one  of  them." 

"  Just  like  our  Thora/'  said  Anna. 

"  Neils  is  here — Neils  Finsen  you  know.  Neils  has  fin- 
ished his  course  at  the  Musical  College,  and  is  connected  in 
some  way  with  Covent  Garden  and  has  come  to  Paris  on 
managerial  business.  He  seems  to  be  getting  along  won- 
derfully and  it  makes  me  feel  almost  envious.  Oh,  to  get 
on  in  life !  To  escape  forever  from  that  grey  sky  and  all 
those  freezing  surroundings !  What  I  would  give  to  do  it ! 
Nothing  should  stand  between  me  and  success  in  life  if  I 
only  saw  the  chance  of  it.  And  who  knows — perhaps  I  may 
some  day !  Neils  declares  that  my  voice  has  improved  won- 
derfully and  I  am  practising  constantly.  But  to  have  any 
real  opportunity  in  music  one  ought  to  be  here  or  in  London 
or  Dresden,  and  it  is  so  expensive.  I'm  nearly  penniless  as  it 
is,  and  I  am  so  shockingly  dowdy  that  if  some  one  does  not 
send  me " 

The  letter  was  to  the  Factor  and  he  had  cut  away  the 
end  of  it. 

"  M'm !  M'm !  "  said  Anna.  "  What  the  Miss  is  used  to, 
the  Misses  keeps  up."  And  then  they  ate  their  supper  of 
smoked  mutton  and  black  bread  in  silence  and  rang  the  bell 
for  prayers. 

The  third  letter  from  the  wedding  party  came  from  Italy, 
and  it  was  written  by  Oscar  only.  The  post  that  brought  it 
had  been  delayed  by  a  snow-storm,  and  had  sheltered  two 
nights  on  the  Moss  Fell  Heath.  At  the  Inn-farm  the  cattle- 
pens  had  been  completely  buried,  and  Magnus  and  the  men 
had  worked  up  to  their  waists  from  daylight  to  dark,  dig- 
ging a  way  out  of  the  snow  that  the  beasts  might  be  fed  and 
watered. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  129 

"  The  world  will  be  white  with  you  in  Iceland,  but  here  in 
Italy  the  roses  are  in  bud,  and  the  sky  is  blue  and  the  air 
is  balmy.  What  a  time  we  have  had  of  it!  We  came  down 
from  Venice,  the  city  of  silence  and  dream,  through  Flor- 
ence, the  city  of  sunshine,  and  Rome,  the  mother  of  cities, 
to  Naples,  the  city  of  song.  Italy  seems  to  set  all  Europe  to 
music !  Lovely  and  beloved  Italy !  If  only  some  one  could  do 
the  same  for  Iceland!  Rugged,  gaunt,  grand  old  Iceland  I 
But  wait — only  wait — perhaps  somebody  will  do  it  yet !  " 

"Ah,  Oscar,  Oscar,"  said  Anna,  "it's  easier  to  count 
twelve  mountains  than  to  climb  one." 

"  Helga  is  enjoying  the  trip  tremendously.  Out  every 
minute  of  the  day  and  making  friends  on  every  side.  Thora 
does  not  seem  so  well,  poor  child,  and  she  hardly  cares  to  go 
about.  We  are  going  on  to  the  Riviera  next  week  and  thence 
back  to  Iceland.  I  must,  of  course,  be  home  for  the  opening 
of  Althing,  but  Helga  is  grudging  every  day.  It  is  now  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning  and  we  have  just  returned  from  a 
Veglioni — that  is  to  say  a  masque  ball — this  (yesterday) 
being  the  last  of  Lent.  Flowers,  streamers,  confetti,  and 
such  dresses !  Helga  looked  magnificent  in  a  pale  blue  chiffon 
of  the  latest  model  and  was,  out  of  all  comparison,  the  belle 
of  the  evening.  Poor  Thora  did  not  care  to  go,  so  she  stayed 
in  the  hotel  and  went  to  bed  early." 

Magnus  and  his  mother  also  went  to  bed  early  on  the 
night  they  read  that  letter.  Anna  rung  the  bell  that  hung 
from  the  ceiling  of  the  hall,  and  the  servants  in  their  skin 
slippers  and  woolen  stockings  trooped  in  for  prayers.  The 
lesson  was  the  story  of  the  widow's  cruise  and  the  hymn 
was — 

"  Meek  and  low,  meek  and  low, 
I  shall  soon  my  Jesus  know." 

The  last  letter  they  received  from  the  wanderers  came  on 
the  first  day  of  spring,  when  the  thaw  had  set  in,  and  the 
water  was  running  .down  the  discolored  snow  on  the  moun- 
tains like  tears  on  a  wrinkled  face,  and  the  sheep  were  be- 
ginning to  lamb.  It  was  from  Monte  Carlo  and  was  written 
by  Thora  to  Anna  herself. 

"  This  place  is  so  beautiful,  Anna,  yet  I  do  not  think  I  like 


130  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

it  very  much.  The  houses  are  all  splendid  palaces,  but  they 
don't  seem  so  comfortable  as  the  little  homes  in  Iceland.  I 
dare  not  say  this  to  Oscar,  lest  he  should  think  me  ungrate- 
ful, and  certainly  there  is  no  fog  or  mist  here,  and  no  big 
white  waves,  because  the  sea  is  always  blue;  and  of  course 
the  trees  are  so  wonderful  and  the  blossoms  so  beautiful! 
Sometimes  they  have  a  carnival,  and  then  wagon-loads  of 
flowers  are  flung  about  everywhere;  but  next  day  it  is  quite 
pitiful  to  see  the  lovely  roses  that  have  been  trampled  upon 
being  swept  up  in  the  streets. 

"  In  the  afternoon  a  band  plays  in  a  garden  and  you  drive 
in  a  carriage  round  and  round  it.  At  night  you  go  to  a 
restaurant — bigger  than  the  Artisan's  Institute — and  there 
another  band  plays  while  you  eat  your  dinner — two  or  three 
hundred  at  once,  and  all  the  ladies  in  low  dresses.  After 
that  you  go  to  a  Casino,  where  all  is  silent  and  rather  dark 
and  people  sit  round  tables  and  play  cards  for  money. 
Everybody  plays  cards  here  because  everybody  seems  to  be 
always  taking  a  holiday." 

"  Ah,  but  the  devil  never  does,"  said  Anna. 

"  It  is  shocking  to  hear,  though,  how  much  is  some- 
times lost  in  a  moment.  Last  night  Oscar  pointed  out  a 
pale-faced  young  man  who  had  gambled  away  the  whole  of 
his  estate — larger  and  more  valuable  than  the  Inn-farm 
itself.  They  say  he  had  not  intended  to  play  at  all  when  he 
went  into  the  room,  but  the  fever  mastered  him  and  he  could 
not  resist  it. 

"  Ay,  ay,  we  don't  see  the  ruts  when  the  snow  covers 
them,"  said  Anna. 

"  It  made  me  feel  ill  and  I  couldn't  stay  any  longer,  but 
Helga  wished  to  remain,  so  Oscar  put  me  in  a  carriage  and 
I  came  back  to  the  hotel  and  went  to  bed.  I  do  wish  Helga 
were  not  so  fond  of  such  places.  She  is,  however,  and  as  a 
consequence  Oscar  is  compelled  to  go  with  her,  although  he 
does  not  want  to,  and  sometimes  he  comes  back  very  de- 
pressed. Since  we  came  here  his  sleep  has  been  much 
broken,  and  his  manner  very  restless.  I  shall  be  glad  when 
we  leave  this  place. 

"  But  we  have  had  such  a  wonderful  time  altogether,  and 
.Oscar  has  been  so  kind  to  me  aud  I  have  been  so  happy.    All 


THE    PEODIGAL    SON  131 

the  same,  I  shall  be  glad  to  be  home  again,  to  see  all  the 
dear  old  faces — yours  and  Auntie  Margret's  and  father's 
and  the  Governor's.  I  suppose  Magnus  does  not  talk  of  me 
now — does  he?  How  is  Silvertop?  Tell  Magnus  to  rub  his 
ears  for  me  and  kiss  his  rough  old  nose.  What  a  romp  we'll 
have  over  the  Heath  some  day!  But  I  suppose  I  must  not 
romp  too  much  now,  must  I  ?  It  is  so  strange,  Anna — there 
are  hardly  any  babies  about  this  place!  !N'ot  like  Italy, 
where  you  see  them  everywhere,  with  their  poor  little  legs 
wrapped  up  like  a  mummy's. 

"  We  are  to  be  back  for  the  first  of  summer,  and  I'm  count- 
ing the  days  already.  Give  our  love  to  everybody  and  if 
anybody  asks  after  me  in  particular  say  I  am  so  well  and  so 
happy." 

The  loom  in  the  hall  lay  idle  on  the  night  when  Magnus 
read  this  letter.  Nobody  spoke  until  Anna  lit  two  candles 
and  gave  one  of  them  to  Magnus,  saying : 

"  Here !  You're  tired,  and  no  wonder,  being  up  before 
daybreak.    How  many  lambs  this  morning,  Magnus  ?  " 

"  Twenty-two,  but  one  of  the  best  of  them  is  dead." 

"  That's  the  way  of  it  always.    Good  night !  " 

«  Good  night !  " 

At  the  door  of  his  bedroom  Magnus  paused,  candle  in 
hand. 

"Mother!" 

«  Well  ? " 

"  Do  you  think  she  w  so  very  happy  ? " 

"  Our  Thora  ?    God  knows,  my  son !  "  said  Anna. 


in 

The  snow  was  gone  and  the  pale  ground  was  green  and 
golden  with  the  raiment  and  the  jewels  of  spring  when  the 
travelers  returned  to  Iceland.  Rounding  the  head  of  the 
fiord  in  the  early  morning,  when  the  little  capital  was  smok- 
ing for  breakfast.  Captain  Zimsen  had  fired  a  cannon  in  honor 
of  their  home-coming,  and  everybody  ran  out-of-doors  in  de- 
light, thinking  the  man-of-war  had  come  from  Copenhagen, 


132  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

but  there  was  greater  joy  still  when  the  "  Laura  "  dropped 
her  anchor  and  the  little  boats  that  had  gone  out  to  meet 
her  came  back  with  the  news  that  the  wedding  party  had 
returned. 

Half  the  men  of  the  town  went  down  to  the  jetty  to  wel- 
come the  wanderers;  among  them  the  Governor  in  his  gala 
uniform,  the  Factor  in  his  best  scull-cap,  smoking  his  best 
German  pipe,  the  Sheriff,  the  Eector,  and  the  Bishop. 

The  Factor's  big  white  boat  had  been  sent  off  instantly  to 
fetch  the  three  ashore,  and  when  it  was  coming  back  there 
was  a  good  deal  of  curiosity  as  to  how  they  would  look  after 
their  long  journey.  Oscar,  who  was  standing  in  the  bow, 
was  seen  to  be  sunburnt,  and  slightly  older-looking,  having 
grown  a  small,  fair  mustache,  which  was  curled  up  at  the 
ends.  It  was  observed  by  somebody  that  he  wore  the  latest 
pattern  of  waistcoat  and  carried  an  Italian  cloak  over  his 
arm.  Helga,  who  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  boat, 
looked  a  shade  more  buxom,  and  wore  a  new  French  hat. 
She  had  a  kodak  swung  over  her  shoulder  and  was  looking 
at  the  people  on  the  jetty  through  an  ivory-framed  field- 
glass.  And  Thora,  who  was  sitting  in  the  stern  in  the  cos- 
tume in  which  she  went  away,  with  Magnus's  white  bearskin 
across  her  knees,  looked  a  thought  thinner  than  before,  but 
her  face  was  bright  with  smiles,  though  there  wei'e  tears  in 
her  sparkling  eyes. 

When  the  boat  came  alongside  the  salutations  were  lusty 
and  robustious.  Such  laughter!  Such  chaff!  Such  pro- 
longed handshaking  and  slapping  on  the  back!  After  the 
Governor  and  the  Factor  had  kissed  Thora  they  found  their 
cheeks  were  wet,  but  Helga  was  as  bright  as  the  day  and 
Oscar  made  everybody  happy.  He  shook  hands  all  round 
and  hailed  even  the  fishermen  and  boatmen  by  name.  "  He 
doesn't  forget  an  old  friend,  eh  ? "  said  an  old  fellow  in 
bare  feet. 

Then  away  they  trooped  to  Government  House,  where 
Anna  was  waiting  in  apron  and  hufa  at  the  door  of  the  porch. 
Thora  cried  for  joy  at  sight  of  her,  and  had  to  be  carried 
off  to  her  bedroom.  And  when  Aunt  Margret  came  in  her 
oiled  ringlets  and  Oscar  would  have  kissed  her  she  beat  him 
off  with  a  playful  pat  on  the  cheek,  and  saying,  "  I  must 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  133 

Bee  what  you've  done  with  my  child  first,"  ran  straight  up- 
stairs. 

Helga  went  up  also  to  take  off  her  hat,  and  the  Governor 
and  the  Factor  carried  Oscar  into  the  drawing-room,  where 
the  Bishop,  the  Sheriff  and  the  Rector  joined  them.  Maria 
brought  in  coffee  and  chocolate,  and  the  old  men  charged 
their  pipes  and  plied  Oscar  with  questions.  The  Governor 
asked  about  English  politics,  the  Factor  about  custom-house 
duties,  the  Bishop  about  the  Vatican,  and  the  Rector  about 
the  excavations  in  the  Roman  Forum. 

Oscar  answered  all  of  them  with  a  dash  and  emphasis 
■that  had  the  look  of  knowledge  and  the  effect  of  wit,  and 
then  glancing  off  the  heavy  ground  of  fact  he  went  tobog- 
ganing down  the  slippery  slopes  of  fiction,  with  amusing  tales 
of  their  travels  and  of  the  ridiculous  things  that  had  and  had 
not  happened  to  them. 

I  All  his  stories  told,  every  time  he  pulled  the  trigger  his 
pistol  fired,  and  the  old  men  laughed  until  they  cried. 
"  What  a  boy  he  is !  "  "  He  plays  with  every  finger."  His 
high  spirits  affected  them  like  sunshine  after  dark  days,  like 
a  breeze  after  a  calm  at  sea,  like  the  swing  of  a  boat  after 
the  first  dip  of  the  oar.  He  was  the  same  reckless,  irrespon- 
sible, lovable  prodigal  as  before,  and  it  was  not  until  after- 
ward that  anybody  remembered  there  had  been  a  hollow  ring 
in  his  hilarity,  a  false  note  in  his  joy. 

Helga  came  down  to  the  drawing-room  and  the  men  re- 
ceived her  with  a  shout. 

"  How  plump  she  has  grown !  "  said  the  Governor. 

"  She  has  certainly  filled  out  on  the  trip,"  said  the  Factor. 

"  Hasn't  she  ?  "  said  Oscar.  "  Just  what  she  wanted — all 
she  wanted." 

"  Nonsense !  Let  us  talk  of  something  serious,"  said 
Helga. 

Thora  came  next,  with  Anna  and  Aunt  Margret  buzzing 
and  humming  about  her  like  bees.  She  had  changed  to  her 
old  Iceland  dress — just  for  remembrance — and  now  that  she 
could  be  seen  without  her  veil  she  was  undoubtedly  thinner, 
and  she  had  a  pinched  look  about  the  nostrils  and  a  feverish 
spot  in  the  middle  of  her  cheeks.  But  her  face  was  shining 
with  timid  smiles  and  she  was  overflowing  with  gratitude. 


134  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  Anna  Eas  given  us  such  beautiful  rooms,  Oscar,  tte  big 
one  overlooking  the  road  and  the  long  one  behind  it,  though 
I  don't  know  what  in  the  world  we  are  going  to  do  with  two." 

"  Oh,  don't  worry  yourself  about  that,  dear — we  may  find 
a  use  for  them  by  and  by,"  said  Anna  with  a  knowing  nod 
of  the  head,  and  then  the  color  flew  up  to  Thora's  eyes  like  a 
flag  of  distress,  and  the  men  began  to  smile. 

Anna  was  smiling  also  and  making  signals  to  the  Governor 
and  chuckling  to  him  behind  her  hand.  "  Is  it  so  ?  "  "  Yes, 
indeed,  I  asked  her  up-stairs  and  it's  just  as  I  expected." 
Then  the  Governor  in  his  turn  began  to  chuckle  and  to 
whisper  to  the  Factor.  "  No  ?  Is  it  a  fact  ?  "  "  So  Anna 
tells  me."  And  then  they  chuckled  together,  until  everybody 
laughed  at  them,  whereupon  the  Factor  said : 

"  And  now,  Oscar,  you've  told  us  all  about  London  and 
Paris  and  Home,  but  not  a  word  about  the  place  where  they 
make  money  without  working  for  it." 

''Monte  Carlo?  Haven't  I?"  said  Oscar.  ''Oh,  well— 
a  beautiful  place !    In  fact  an  absolute  paradise." 

"  An  absolute  hell  if  half  one  hears  is  true,"  said  the 
Governor. 

"  Well,  yes — yes,  that's  so,  too,"  said  Oscar. 

"  I  once  heard  of  a  man  who  made  ten  pounds  in  a  single 
night — think  of  that,"  said  the  Factor. 

"  Goodness'  sake !  "  cried  Aunt  Margret. 

"  But  what's  the  good  of  having  a  chest  full  of  gold  if 
the  devil  keeps  the  key  ? "  said  the  Governor. 

Then  Helga,  who  was  sitting  on  the  piano-stool,  began  to 
play  softly,  and  Oscar  swung  round  to  her. 

"  Ah,  '  Addio  Napoli ! '  We  must  sing  you  some  of  the 
Neapolitan  songs,  father," 

This  was  received  with  a  chorus  of  approval,  and  for  the 
•next  half -hour  Helga  played  and  Oscar  sang  the  gay  ditties 
with  which  Naples  fills  the  air  of  Italy  with  song.  And 
■when  at  one  moment  the  Factor  would  have  come  back  to  the 
man  who  made  ten  pounds  in  a  single  night,  Helga  struck 
up  the  tarantella  and  Oscar  danced  it. 

At  length  the  Governor  said,  "  Everything  has  a  stopping 
place  except  Time.  It's  late,  and  Thora  is  looking  tired,  so 
I'm  going  to  turn  out  everybody  who  doesn't  live  here." 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  135 

"Quite  right,  too,"  said  Aunt  Margret,  "and  I'm  going 
to  carry  Helga  off  to  her  own  quarters." 

"  I  will  take  Helga  home,"  said  Oscar,  and  with  further 
handshaking  and  well-wishing  the  party  began  to  break  up. 

"  After  all  I  suppose  you  are  glad  to  be  back,  Thora  ?  "  said 
the  Bishop. 

"  Very,  very  glad,"  replied  Thora. 

"  Ha,  ha !  It  isn't  easy  to  hobble  a  home-sick  pony," 
laughed  the  Rector.    "  And  you,  Helga  ? " 

"  I'm  not  glad  at  all.  Rector.  Who  could  be  glad  to  leave 
all  that  loveliness  for  a  wilderness  like  this." 

That  chilled  everybody  for  a  moment,  and  thinking 
to  come  to  Helga's  relief,   Oscar  said: 

"  There's  something  in  what  Helga  says,  certainly." 

"  Then  you,  also,  Oscar " 

"  No,  Rector,  no — that  is  to  say — well,  I'm  glad  to  be  back 
and  I  shall  be  glad  to  go  away  again." 

And  then  everybody  was  as  happy  as  before. 


IV 

Next  day  Oscar  and  Helga  spent  many  hours  in  a  round 
of  return  visits,  while  Thora,  who  was  still  tired,  stayed  at 
home  and  received  some  of  her  old  schoolfellows.  One  of 
them,  who  had  been  the  beauty  of  her  day,  had  married  a 
farmer  fifteen  miles  away  and  borne  him  three  children.  It 
was  all  work,  work,  work  with  her  now  and  the  once-bright 
girl  was  a  slave. 

"  Ah,  Thora,  how  lucky  you  were  not  to  marry  Magnus !  " 
she  said. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  said  Thora. 

"  Why,  yes,  Thora.  And  then  everybody  says  Oscar  is  go- 
ing to  be  such  a  distinguished  man." 

It  was  the  spring  caravan  time  and  Magnus  himself,  who 
had  brought  his  wool  to  the  Factor's,  came  late  in  the  after- 
noon. Thora  thought  he  looked  brawnier  and  bigger  than 
ever,  and  she  could  not  help  seeing  that  his  hands  were 
coarser  and  his  nails  chopped  off  square.  But  his  voice  was 
as  soft  as  it  used  to  be,  and  he  was  shy  and  even  nervous. 

The  light  was  low  when  he  came  into  the  drawing-room. 


136  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

and  looking  closely  at  her  face  he  asked  three  times  over 
if  she  was  well,  until  she  laughed  as  she  gave  him  the  same 
answer  again  and  again.  Then  he  laughed,  too,  and  after 
that  they  got  on  better,  and  exchanged  all  the  "  newses." 

Silvertop  was  in  good  condition;  he  had  got  his  summer 
coat  and  looked  splendid;  in  fact,  he  had  been  too  well  fed 
and  was  getting  a  little  over  himself  and  would  have  to  be 
taken  down  a  peg  or  two  before  Thora  rode  him  again.  Ah, 
well,  she  wouldn't  want  him  just  yet — not  just  yet — and 
Magnus  had  better  keep  the  rascal  at  the  farm  a  little  longer. 

"  But  what  a  time  you've  been  away !  "  said  Magnus. 

"  Haven't  we  ?  "  said  Thora.    "  Five  months,  nearly  six." 

"  Six  months  come  Tuesday  week,"  said  Magnus. 

At  that  they  both  became  confused,  and  Thora  began  to 
show  some  photographs  taken  by  Helga  on  the  journey. 

"  How  beautiful !  How  wonderful !  "  said  Magnus.  "  But 
I  wonder  your  ship  wasn't  floating  on  the  pumps,  as  they  say, 
before  you  got  back  to  harbor — it  must  have  cost  a  good  deal 
of  money  to  see  all  those  places." 

"  It  must,"  said  Thora,  "  traveling  is  so  expensive — espe- 
cially when  there  is  more  than  one  to  pay  for." 

"  And  then  there  was  Helga,"  said  Magnus. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  there  was  Helga.  But  the  check  which 
father  and  the  Governor  gave  to  Oscar  seems  to  have  been 
sufficient  for  all." 

"  Still  I  can  not  understand  how  he  made  it  pay  for  every- 
thing." 

"  No,  it  isn't  easy  to  understand  that,  is  it  ? " 

"  Venice !  Rome !  Monte  Carlo !  How  you  must  have 
enjoyed  your  journey! " 

"  Oscar  did — every  day  of  it." 

"And  you,  Thora?" 

"  I'm  not  a  good  traveler — I  soon  tire  of  sight-seeing,  and 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  Helga " 

"  So  you  are  not  sorry  you  took  Helga  with  you  ? " 

Thora  faltered  a  little  and  then  said,  "  Helga  was  able  to 
go  sight-seeing  with  Oscar  when  I  had  to  stay  in  the  hotel." 

"  But  were  you  not  lonely  while  they  were  away? " 

"  Perhaps — sometimes — just  a  little — being  so  much  alone, 
and  among  so  many  strange  faces." 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  137 

Magnus,  who  seemed  to  be  absorbed  in  the  photographs, 
said  almost  unconsciously,  "  Poor  little  thing !  " 

Then  the  flag  of  distress  ran  up  to  Thora's  eyes  and  she 
answered  hurriedly,  "  Oh,  it  was  my  own  fault.  Oscar  al- 
ways wanted  to  stay  with  me,  and  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
Helga " 

But  a  little  catch  came  into  her  throat,  and  she  had  to 
stop.    Whereupon  Magnus  said: 

"  And  I  hoped  you  were  so  happy !  " 

But  then  Anna  brought  in  the  lamp  and  the  lights  relieved 
the  tension,  yet  being  able  to  see  the  photographs  plainly 
Magnus  laid  them  down  and  Thora  put  them  away. 

He  left  early,  having  a  long  ride  before  him,  and  Anna 
followed  him  to  the  door. 

"  Is  Thora  quite  well  ? "  he  asked  in  a  whisper. 

"As  well  as  can  be  expected  under  the  circumstances," 
said  Anna. 

"And  is  Oscar  kind  to  her?" 

"Kind?  Oscar,  kind?  Why  should  you  ask  that,  Mag- 
nus?" 

"  She  looks  so  pale,  so  depressed." 

"  Oh,  that's  often  the  way  with  young  wives  in  her  condi- 
tion. Haven't  you  noticed  anything — anything  particular? 
Our  Thora  will  be  a  mother  before  long." 

"  And  is  that  all  that's  the  matter  with  her  ? "  said  Magnus. 


The  summer  session  of  Parliament  was  to  begin  almost 
immediately  and  Oscar  plunged  straightway  into  prepara- 
tions for  his  campaign.  He  was  to  move  a  resolution  propos- 
ing that  the  Acts  of  Althing  should  henceforward  be  promul- 
gated on  the  last  day  of  the  session,  as  in  the  old  times,  from 
the  ancient  Mount  of  Laws  at  Thingvellir.  It  was  to  be  his 
maiden  speech  and  much  depended  upon  it.  Before  he  wrote 
it  he  went  over  to  the  Factor's  to  discuss  with  Helga  its 
scheme  and  argument.  After  he  had  written  it  he  went 
over  to  the  Factor's  again  to  read  it  to  Helga,  and  obtain 
10 


138  THE    PKODIGAL    SON 

the  benefit  of  her  suggestions.  And  when  he  had  committed 
it  to  memory  he  went  over  to  the  Factor's  a  third  time  to 
rehearse  it  before  Helga.  It  was  Helga  first  and  last,  all 
day  and  every  day  until  the  day  of  the  opening  sitting. 

"  Helga  is  a  great  politician,  but  you  care  nothing  about 
politics,  do  you,  Thora  ? "  And  Thora  would  swallow  the 
lump  in  her  throat  and  answer  "  No." 

Thora  and  Helga  were  both  present  when  Oscar  took  his 
seat.  They  occupied  the  Governor's  ante-room  that  opened 
off  the  parliamentary  chamber.  The  galleries  were  crowded 
with  spectators,  and  there  was  much  curiosity  when  Oscar 
rose  to  speak.  Thora  felt  a  little  faint  at  the  first  sound 
of  his  voice,  and  she  would  have  fled  away  if  she  could  have 
done  so,  but  Helga  held  her  to  her  chair. 

"  Hush !  For  goodness'  sake  be  quiet,"  she  whispered. 
*  You'll  make  him  still  more  nervous." 

The  speech  was  a  great  success.  It  was  an  appeal  for  the 
preservation  of  the  old  order — for  all  that  made  Iceland 
what  it  was — the  land  of  Saga  and  song.  Even  the  party 
of  progress  who  thought  much  of  its  moonshine  were  carried 
away  by  the  fervor  and  enthusiasm,  the  poetry  and  passion 
of  the  young  speaker.  When  Oscar  finished  there  were  vol- 
lies  of  applause;  the  people  in  the  galleries  clapped  their 
hands  and  Helga  stood  up  and  waved  her  handkerchief,  but 
Thora  covered  her  face  and  cried  into  her  gloves. 

The  resolution  was  passed  unanimously,  and  Oscar  was 
made  chairman  of  a  committee  to  carry  out  the  necessary 
preparations.  This  work  occupied  all  his  spare  time  during 
the  six  weeks  of  the  parliamentary  session.  It  took  him  to  the 
Factor's  every  day,  for  Helga  was  full  of  schemes  for  the  great 
ceremonial.  Being  in  Parliament  every  morning  and  at 
the  Factor's  every  afternoon  Oscar  was  nearly  always  frorq, 
home  and  Thora  saw  little  of  him.  Every  night  he  returned 
with  a  mouthful  of  apologies  and  a  torrent  of  explanations. 
They  had  been  searching  the  Sagas  for  the  exact  course 
taken  by  the  procession  in  the  old  days,  or  they  had  been, 
selecting  flags  to  hang  over  the  rocks,  or  they  had  been  com- 
posing a  hymn  to  celebrate  the  occasion — Oscar  had  impro- 
vised one  in  a  moment  and  Helga  had  written  it  down. 

**  And  how  has  my  little  baby  been  going  on  all  day  long  ? 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  139 

liOnely?  What  a  shame!  I'm  sorry — very,  very  sorry,"  he 
would  say. 

And  then  Thora  would  answer,  "  Don't  think  of  me,  Oscar. 
You  have  your  work  to  do,  and  I  only  wish  I  could  help  you, 
like  Helga." 

But  in  the  long  hours  of  loneliness,  when  her  head  was  on 
her  hands  and  her  feet  were  in  the  fender,  the  poor  little 
soul  would  sink  and  the  tender  heart  grow  bitter.  Only 
Anna  would  be  with  her  then,  comforting  and  consoling  her, 
and  pretending  to  be  blind  to  what  every  eye  could  see. 

"  Anna,"  she  said  at  length,  "  when  Magnus  was  here 
be  asked  me  such  a  strange  question." 

"  Wtat  was  that,  Thora  ?  " 

"  He  asked  if  I  wasn't  sorry  that  Helga  had  gone  with  us 
on  our  journey." 

"  And  are  you  ?  " 

"  Sometimes — ^perhaps  it  is  foolish — but  sometimes  I  think 
I  am." 

"  I  know.  I  think  I  know.  And  it  isn't  foolish  of  you 
at  all,  dear.  Oscar  is  doing  wrong.  I  must  speak  to  him — 
I  must  speak  to  him  severely." 

*'  It  isn't  Oscar's  fault.    Helga  is  so  selfish." 

"  Yes,  she  takes  after  somebody  else  in  that  way,  Thora." 

"  She  was  always  taking  Oscar  away  from  me  when  we 
were  on  our  journey." 

"  But  your  journey  is  over  now,  and  he  must  mend  his 
manners." 

"  Ah,  no!  That  part  of  our  journey  isn't  over  yet,  Anna. 
Sometimes  I  think  it  has  only  begun." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  Helga  is  trying  to " 

"  Helga  has  no  pity.  When  she  once  gets  hold  of  anybody 
she  will  never  give  him  up." 

"  You  think  she  is  trying  to  get  hold  of  Oscar  ?  " 

"I  think  she  has  got  hold  of  him." 

"  You  mustn't  say  that  about  your  husband,  Thora." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  blame  Oscar.  Helga  is  so  beautiful,  so  clever. 
She  has  every  advantage  over  me." 

"  Now  that's  just  where  you  are  wrong.  There  is  one 
point  in  which  our  little  Thora  has  an  advantage  over 
Helga  and  every  other  woman  in  the  world." 


140  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 


"  You  mean  with  Oscar- 


"  Yes,  with  Oscar — you  are  going  to  be  the  mother  of  his 
child." 

"  Will  that  make  any  difference  ?  " 

"  Any  difference  ?  I  should  think  it  will  indeed.  My 
poor  mother  used  to  say,  '  When  people  are  married  it's  the 
children  who  keep  the  pot  boiling.'  " 

"  You  mean  that  when  my  baby  is  born  Oscar  will  come 
back  to  me  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  do." 

"  And  that  he  will  never  go  away  from  me  any  more  ? " 

"  Never !  Oscar  has  always  loved  children — wait  till  he 
has  a  child  of  his  own  and  see." 

"  Well,  you  are  his  mother — you  know  him  best." 

"Trust  me,  Thora!  It  isn't  a  good  well  if  water  has  to 
be  carried  to  it,  but  when  the  child  is  born  Oscar  will  begin 
all  over  again." 

"You  think  that?  Really?  You  think  Oscar  will  love 
me  again  for  my  baby's  sake  ?  " 

"  Any  man  must  if  he  has  a  good  heart — and  Oscar's 
heart  is  good  whatever  his  head  may  be." 

"  Indeed — indeed  it  is." 

"  He  must  love  the  mother  for  the  sake  of  the  child,  and 
the  child  for  the  sake  of  the  mother." 

"  How  sweet !    How  beautiful !  " 

Thora's  own  eyes  were  now  like  the  eyes  of  a  child — so 
full  of  wonder  and  love.  She  fell  to  counting  the  weeks  that 
must  pass  before  the  fulness  of  her  time. 

"Nine  weeks — hardly  nine — eight — think,  mother — only 
eight.  How  I  wish  it  were  even  less!  I  used  to  look  for- 
ward to  that  time  with  anxiety  and  dread,  but  there  is  noth- 
ing to  be  afraid  of  if  so  much  good  can  come  out  of  a  little 
pain — nothing  really — now  is  there  ?  " 


VI 

In  this  sweet  hope  Thora  comforted  herself  for  four  weeks, 
and  then  something  happened  which  disturbed  all  her  cal- 
culations.   It  was  the  eve  of  the  proclamation  and  the  com- 


THE    PEODIGAL    SON"  141 

mittee  of  which  Oscar  was  the  chief  decided  to  visit  Thing- 
vellir  in  order  to  complete  their  preparations  for  the  cere- 
mony. On  this  errand  Helga  was  to  go  with  them,  and  hav- 
ing so  many  things  to  attend  to  they  were  to  sleep  one  night 
at  the  Inn-farm  and  return  the  following  day.  When  Oscar 
announced  this  program  a  sudden  change  came  over  Thora's 
patient  and  submissive  spirit. 

"  Then  I  must  go,  too,"  she  said. 

"You?  You,  Thora?"  said  Oscar.  "Why,  what  can  you 
be  thinking  of?  Thirty-three  miles  away — in  that  desolate 
region — without  a  doctor  or  a  nurse — and  so  near  your  time, 
too.    Impossible !     Quite  impossible  !  " 

"  Then  Helga  mustn't  go  either." 

"  But  Helga  is  so  useful,  so  necessary." 

"  I  don't  care.  If  I  can  not  go  with  you  then  Helga  shall 
not  do  so,  either." 

"  My  dear  Thora,  this  is  so  unlike  you.  But  as  you  please. 
I  shall  be  ashamed  to  tell  Helga,  and  explain  to  the  com- 
mittee, but  still,  if  you  wish  it —  No,  no,  you  must  not 
cry.  You  must  not  disturb  yourself.  My  little  woman  must 
keep  herself  very  quiet  while  I  am  away — very,  very  quiet." 

Two  hours  after  Oscar  had  gone  Helga  came  to  Govern- 
ment House.  Thora  was  alone,  and  the  sisters  faced  each 
other  for  some  instants  without  speaking.  At  length  Helga 
said: 

"  Well,  I  trust  you  are  satisfied.  Now  that  you  have 
shown  your  foolish  jealousy  and  made  us  the  talk  of  the 
town,  I  trust  you  are  satisfied." 

"  Oscar  said  I  was  to  keep  myself  quiet,  Helga,  and  you 
know  I  ought  to  do  so." 

"  Oh,  you  can  excite  yourself  enough  it  seems,  when  you 
wish  to  express  your  paltry  feelings.  Because  I  have  sympa- 
thized with  Oscar  and  tried  to  help  and  inspire  him,  you 
who  have  never  sympathized  with  him  and  can  never  help 
him,  because  you  cannot  understand  him,  and  he  is  beyond 
you — you  must  come  with  your  paltry  spite ^" 

"  Helga !  You  have  never  been  kind  to  me — never  since 
you  came  home  a  year  ago — but  now  you  are  cruel." 

**  Am  I  ?  Perhaps  I  am.  And  perhaps  I've  gone  through 
enough  to  make  me  so." 


142  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  You  speak  as  if  your  disappointment  of  this  morning  in 
not  going  with  Oscar  were  a  great  and  grievous  matter,  but 
you  don't  seem  to  remember  how  often  I  have  been  disap- 
pointed in  the  same  way." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  you  think  you  are  much  to  be  pitied." 

"I  don't  say  I'm  to  be  pitied,  Helga,  because  I  know  it 
•was  my  own  fault  at  the  beginning.  But  I  do  say  I've  never 
known  a  moment's  peace  since  you  came  home  from  Den- 
mark. I  persuaded  father  to  send  for  you  because  you  were 
my  sister,  and  I  wished  you  to  share  my  happiness,  but  you 
have  never  shown  me  any  sisterly  feeling — never.  On  the  con- 
trary, you  found  me  happy  and  you  have  made  me  miserable. 
You  have  done  your  best  to  render  life  intolerable  to  me." 

"  I  thought  you  said  you  were  not  to  excite  yourself, 
Thora?" 

"  It  is  you  that  are  exciting  me,  Helga,  because  you  are 
always  inflicting  the  sharpest  tortures  upon  me  and  hurting 
me  where  you  know  I  can  bear  it  least.  From  the  first  you 
tried  to  take  Oscar  away  from  me — you  know  you  did.  You 
tried  to  do  it  before  our  marriage  and  you  have  tried  to  do 
it  ever  since.  You  were  not  even  ashamed  to  try  during  our 
honeymoon  and  you  are  trying  now,  because  you  have  lost  all 
sense  of  loyalty  or  justice  or  remorse  or  even  shame." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Helga,  "  you  think  you  have  been  a  great 
martyr.  But  would  it  surprise  you  to  hear  that  somebody 
else  has  gone  through  a  still  greater  martyrdom?  You  ac- 
cuse me  of  having  inflicted  tortures  upon  you — what  of  the 
tortures  you  have  inflicted  upon  me  ? " 

«I,  Helga?" 

"  Yes,  you !  You  speak  as  if  I  were  the  sort  of  woman 
■who  draws  a  man  into  her  net,  who  tears  him  away  from  the 
wife  he  loves  and  drags  him  down  to  his  death.  You  would 
have  been  nearer  right  if  you  had  thought  of  me  as  another 
kind  of  woman  altogether — one  who  is  herself  the  sufferer — 
•who  is  shut  out  and  cut  off  and  must  remain  unmated  be- 
cause the  man  who  loves  her  is  married  to  somebody  else." 

"Helga!" 

"  Oh,  I  should  have  had  mercy  on  your  condition,  but  you 
would  not  let  me.  And  now  if  you  wish  to  hear  the  truth  I 
•will  tell  you." 


THE    PKODIGAL    SON  143 

"  And  what  is  the  truth,  Helga  ?  " 

"  The  truth  is  that  Oscar  does  not  love  you  at  all — perhaps 
he  has  never  loved  you." 

*'  Helga,  how  dare  you !  The  falseness  of  what  you  say 
is  on  the  face  of  it.  If  Oscar  has  never  loved  nae,  why  am  I 
his  wife?  What  advantage  had  he  to  gain  by  choosing  me 
instead  of  you?  What  compulsion  was  put  upon  him?  If 
he  did  not  love  me  why  did  he  marry  me  ? " 

"  He  married  you  out  of  pity — from  a  mistaken  sense 
of  duty — because  he  had  contracted  to  marry  you  and 
thought  it  honorable  to  go  on  with  his  bargain.  But  he 
loved  somebody  else  and  so  he  sacrificed  both  of  them." 

"  It's  false,  Helga,  it's  false,  and  it's  only  your  vanity  that 
makes  you  say  so." 

"  Oh,  you  must  not  suppose  that  I  am  saying  this  without 
a  certainty.    I  had  it  from  himself " 

"Himself?    He,  himself?" 

*' from  his  own  mouth,  on  the  very  eve  of  your  mar- 
riage." 

"  On  the  eve  of  his  marriage  to  me,  he  told  you " 


"  He  told  me  that  he  loved  me.  And  since  then,  if  he  has 
not  said  it  in  words  he  has  said  it  in  other  ways  again  and 
again.    He  loves  me  still " 

"  No,  no,  no,  it  is  not  true." 

"  He  will  always  love  me." 

"  It  is  not  true,  it  is  not  true." 

"  And  he  loves  you  no  more  than  a  man  loves  his  dog  or 
his  horse,  or  the  man  of  the  Bible  days  loved  the  hand- 
maiden of  his  wife." 

"  Helga,  for  shame !  Are  you  without  conscience  or  truth 
that  you  can  lie  to  me  like  that  ?  If  Oscar  had  never  loved 
me  do  you  think  I  should  not  have  found  it  out  long  ago? 
And  if  he  loved  you  do  you  think  I  should  not  know  it — I 
who  am  bearing  his  child  ? " 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  taunt  me  with  that,  Thora.  Yes,  yours 
are  the  lips  that  kiss  him,  but  it  isn't  the  lips  that  matter. 
It  is  the  love  behind  the  lips,  and  that  love  is  mine,  and 
every  time  he  kisses  you  the  kiss  is  meant  for  me." 

"  You  lie,  Helga,  you  lie." 

"  And  the  child  too,  it  is  not  your  child,  because  the  love 
that  gave  it  life  was  my  love." 


144  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  You  lie,  you  lie." 

"  What  do  I  care  if  you  are  the  bondwoman  who  bears  his 
child?  The  child  will  be  my  child,  and  when  he  is  bom 
he  will  have  my  face " 

"  No,  it  is  not  possible." 

"  It  is,  it  is — you  know  it  is." 

Thora  gasped  for  breath.  Then  an  extraordinary  change 
came  over  her  that  made  her  almost  unrecognizable.  The 
patient  and  gentle  woman  seemed  suddenly  possessed  by  a 
demon.  Something  strange  and  horrible  seemed  in  an  in- 
stant to  enter  into  her  soul.  The  homicidal  impulse  which 
takes  hold  of  wild  animals  appeared  to  assail  and  conquer 
her.  One  moment  she  stood  facing  her  sister,  convulsed  and 
livid,  and  then  in  a  voice  that  was  hoarse  with  rage  and 
shame  she  said: 

"  Very  well,  if  that  is  so,  and  if  my  child  is  not  my  own, 
if  it  has  been  conceived  in  the  love  of  another  woman,  and 
I  am  only  the  bondwoman  who  bears  it,  then — then — then — 
it  shall  never  be  born,  or  if  it  is  born  I — I — I  will  kill  it !  " 

With  that  she  burst  into  a  peal  of  laughter,  and  fell  on  to 
the  floor. 

The  noise  brought  Anna  into  the  room  panting. 

"  What  have  you  done  to  her  ?  What  have  you  said  ? 
Thora!    Thora!" 

« I  will  kill  the  child.    I  will  kill  it,  I  will  kill  it !  " 

The  wild,  shrieking  laughter  continued  and  increased  un- 
til the  Governor  came  running  from  his  room.  He  listened 
for  a  moment  to  the  mad  cries  and  then  said,  "  Let  us  lift 
her  up  and  carry  her  to  bed.  Helga,  go  for  the  doctor  and 
for  Margret  Neilsen.  Tell  them  to  come  quickly.  She's  in 
labor — there's  no  time  to  lose." 


VII 

All  night  Thora  tossed  about  in  a  strong  delirium,  which 
expressed  itself  in  the  one  wild,  homicidal  cry.  Aunt  Mar- 
gret came  and  found  Anna  in  the  sick-room.  The  Factor 
followed,  and  sat  for  hours  with  the  Governor  iu  his  bureau 
below. 


THE   PRODIGAL    SON  145 

The  Doctor  (Doctor  Olesen)  never  left  Thora's  side.  He 
did  not  conceal  the  gravity  of  her  condition.  The  delirium 
was  due  to  premature  labor.  Such  homicidal  mania  was  not 
unknown  in  the  cases  of  young  mothers.  It  generally  orig- 
inated in  some  startling  event,  perhaps  a  great  loss,  or  a 
great  shock  or  a  grievous  disappointment.  Doctor  Olesen 
questioned  Anna,  but  she  knew  nothing  to  account  for 
Thora's  seizure.    He  asked  Helga,  but  she  said  little. 

Helga  was  obviously  in  a  state  of  terror.  Her  face  was 
deathly  pale  and  her  lips  quivered.  She  could  not  be  got  to 
leave  the  house.  When  the  Factor  returned  home  at  ten 
o'clock,  being  powerless  to  do  anything,  he  could  not  tear 
Helga  away.  It  was  observed  by  all  three  attendants  on  the 
invalid  that  Helga  did  not  ask  to  be  admitted  to  Thora's 
room.  "  A  sensible  girl,"  thought  the  Doctor.  "  She  knows 
better  than  ask  me,"  thought  Anna.  But  Helga  seemed 
anxious  to  help  in  any  menial  way,  no  matter  what. 

When  there  was  nothing  else  to  do  Helga  sat  in  the  draw- 
ing-room, still  wearing  her  cloak  and  hat,  and  listening  in 
fear  to  the  mad  cries  from  the  chamber  overhead.  In  the 
long  dark  hours  she  was  a  prey  to  the  most  agonizing 
thoughts.  She  was  feeling  like  one  who  had  committed 
a  murder  and  asking  herself  what  would  happen  if  Thora 
died. 

Beyond  the  physical  agony  of  hearing  those  wild  cries  from 
the  chamber  overhead,  beyond  the  pangs  of  a  troubled  con- 
science and  beyond  the  pain  of  the  sisterly  love  and  pity 
which  overcame  her  and  surprised  her  in  these  dark  hours, 
Helga  suffered  from  one  overmastering  terror — the  terror 
of  what  Oscar  would  say  to  her  when  he  came  back.  He 
had  been  sent  for;  there  would  be  no  need  to  tell  him  any- 
thing. 

Oscar  arrived  at  midnight,  covered  with  dust  and  sweat. 
Somebody  opened  the  hall  door  to  him.  He  did  not  stop 
to  look  who  it  was — ^but  pushing  through  the  house  came 
first  upon  Helga  in  the  drawing-room.  For  a  moment  they 
stood  face  to  face,  like  guilty  things.  She  was  trembling 
from  head  to  foot;  he  was  breathing  heavily. 

"  How  is  she  now  ?  "  he  asked. 

"No  better,"  she  answered. 


146  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

He  heard  the  cries  from  the  room  above. 

"Is  that  she?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Oh,  God !  "  he  muttered,  and  began  to  load  himself  witK 
reproaches.  ''  I  should  have  taken  her  with  me  when  she 
asked  me.  Why  didn't  I  ?  I  ought  to  have  known  what  would 
happen." 

Helga  had  expected  that  he  would  fly  out  at  her,  and  she 
could  have  borne  any  insult,  but  this  she  could  not  bear. 

"  It's  all  my  fault,"  he  said.  "  I  have  been  a  fool — a  weak, 
selfish  fool.  Oh,  Thora,  my  sweet,  innocent,  long-suffering 
Thora,  forgive  me,  forgive  me !  " 

Helga  could  not  endure  the  house  any  longer.  She  felt 
like  a  criminal  and  wanted  to  escape.  Leaving  Oscar  with 
his  head  on  his  arms  over  the  cushions  of  the  couch,  she 
slipped  out  and  went  home  through  the  dark  and  silent 
streets  alone. 

Finding  Helga  gone,  Oscar  crept  up  to  the  door  of  Thora's 
room,  but  he  was  not  permitted  to  enter  where  the  mere 
breath  of  excitement  might  quench  the  glimmer  of  life 
within.  His  mother  came  out  to  him  in  the  large  room  at 
the  back  and  found  him  with  his  face  down  on  the  table. 
She  had  intended  to  rate  him  soundly  the  moment  she  set 
eyes  on  him,  but  the  sight  of  his  distress  silenced  her  re- 
proaches and  she  fell  to  comforting  him  instead. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Anna,  "  you  couldn't  have  taken  her  with 
you.  Things  are  bad  enough  as  they  are,  but  think  how  much 
worse  they  would  have  been  if  all  this  had  happened  there." 

"  Then  I  should  have  stayed  at  home,"  said  Oscar.  "  I 
should  have  given  up  everything." 

"  Thora  couldn't  have  wished  you  to  do  that,  my  son.  None 
of  us  had  a  right  to  expect  it." 

"  But  you  don't  know  everything,  mother.  I  have  behaved 
shamefully  to  Thora.  I  thought  I  was  doing  right  by  her, 
but  I  was  doing  wrong,  dreadfully  wrong.  The  poor  girl  has 
Buffered  terribly,  and  this  is  the  result." 

As  the  first  streaks  of  dawn  began  to  fret  the  sky  above 

the  glaciers  of  the  Eastern  fells,  the  delirium  abated,  and 

there  came  a  period  of  conscious  pain.    Anna  ran  in  to  Oscar 

I  to  tell  him  of  the  change,  and  then  down-stairs  on  a  similar 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  147 

errand  to  where  the  Governor  lay  in  his  shirt-sleeves  on 
the  sofa  in  his  bureau. 

"  She's  herself  at  last,  thank  the  Lord,  and  the  doctor  says 
she's  going  along  as  well  as  can  be  expected." 

Two  hours  later,  when  the  sun  rose  on  the  little  town,  and 
the  fiord  and  the  fells  were  crimson  with  his  glory,  the  angel 
of  peace  came  down  to  the  house  of  pain,  bearing  a  babe  in 
her  arms. 

With  a  smile  and  an  outstretched  hand,  the  doctor  entered 
Oecar's  room,  and  said : 

"  I  am  happy  to  congratulate  you.  A  girl — a  beautiful 
child." 

"ButThora?" 

"  She  is  weak,  but  quite  at  ease,  and  as  well  as  can  be 
expected  under  the  circumstances." 

"  Thank  God !  " 

"  And  now  go  to  bed  yourself,  Oscar,  and  sleep,  if  you 
can,  until  this  time  to-morrow." 

"  I  will — I  will.  Thank  you,  doctor,  thank  you  a  thousand 
times." 

Meanwhile  Anna  was  in  the  bureau  telling  the  glad  news 
to  the  Governor,  and  then  running  about  the  house  to  find 
some  one  to  carry  it  to  the  Factor. 

"  I'll  go,  mother,"  said  a  voice  from  the  kitchen. 

"  Goodness !  Is  that  you,  Magnus  ?  When  did  you 
come?" 

"  About  eleven  o'clock  last  night." 

"  Then  you  were  here  before  Oscar  ?  " 

"  Golden  Mane  gallops  fast,  mother." 

"  And  what  have  you  been  doing  in  the  kitchen  ? " 

"  Carrying  the  wood  and  boiling  the  water  for  Margret 
Keilsen." 

"  Then  you  must  go  to  bed  now — ^you'll  be  sleepy." 

"  Not  I — I  can  lie  awake  six  nights,  you  know,  when  the 
lambs  are  coming." 

"  Well,  a  lamb  has  come  to-night,  Magnus,"  said  Anna. 

"  God  bless  it,  and  the  little  mother  as  well,"  said  Magnus. 


148  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 


vin 

TnoRA  slept  until  midday  under  the  combined  effects  of 
exhaustion  and  a  sleeping  draught,  and  when  she  awoke 
the  evil  spirit  which  had  possessed  her  had  gone,  and  she  was 
her  own  sweet  simple  self  once  more.  But  the  struggle  had 
been  a  terrible  one,  and  if  the  better  part  of  her  soul  had 
conquered  the  frail  body  which  had  been  its  battlefield  was 
a  waste  of  weakness.  She  was  pale  and  thin  and  her  blue 
eyes  were  large  and  liquid. 

Before  opening  them  she  heard  from  the  back  room  (which 
had  been  transformed  into  a  nursery)  the  sweetest,  most 
thrilling  sound  that  ever  comes  to  a  woman's  ears,  a  sound 
which  sums  up  into  its  joys  all  the  ecstasy  that  a  human 
soul  can  know,  a  sound  which  no  woman  in  the  world  has 
ever  heard  but  once — the  first  cry  of  her  first-born. 

Thora  opened  her  eyes,  and  saw  Anna  knitting  by  her  side, 

"  Is  that  baby  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Ah,  I  thought  you  were  awake !  "  said  Anna.  "  Yes, 
Thora,  that  is  baby.     Margret  Neilsen  is  bathing  her." 

"  Bring  her  to  me.  Tell  Aunt  Margret  to  bring  her  imme- 
diately." 

"  By  and  by,  dear,  by  and  by." 

"No,  now!  If  she  doesn't  bring  baby  this  instant,  I'll 
get  up  and  go  to  her." 

"Hush!  You  are  to  be  very  quiet,  and  not  to  excite 
yourself.  And  as  for  getting  up,  the  doctor  says  if  you  stir 
out  of  bed  within  a  week  goodness  knows  what  will  happen." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  I  am  very  naughty,  and  you  must  forgive 
me.  But  I've  not  seen  baby  yet — not  really  seen  her — and 
if  you  will  bring  her  to  me  I  shall  be  so  good,  I  shall  not 
excite  myself  at  all— not  at  all.  You  will  see  how  quiet  I 
shall  be." 

"Well,  if  you  promise  me,  faithfully  promise  me,"  said 
Anna. 

"  Wait !  Sit  down  again,  mother.  Sit  here  by  the  win- 
dow. I  have  something  to  ask  you  first.  Does  she — does 
baby  resemble  anybody  ?  " 


THE   PRODIGAL    SON  149 

"Resemble  anybody?  I  shoiild  think  she  does,  indeed. 
I  have  never  in  all  my  life  seen  a  child  so  like  its  mother." 

"  Like  me  ?  Oh,  bring  her !  Bring  her !  I  can't  wait  a 
moment  longer." 

Anna  went  into  the  nursery  and  told  Atmt  Margret  that 
Thora  was  awake  and  calling  impatiently  for  the  child. 

"  But  she'll  want  to  take  her,"  said  Aunt  Margret. 

"  Trust  her  for  that,  if  she's  a  mother,"  said  Anna. 

"  But  will  it  be  safe  ?    Is  she  quite  herself  again  ?  " 

"  We'll  chance  her,"  said  Anna. 

Aimt  Margret  gathered  up  the  baby  in  its  long  clothes 
and  with  its  feeding-bottle  at  her  breast,  and  carried  it  into 
Thora's  room,  and  stooping  by  the  bed  she  said,  "  There  I 
Look  at  that  now !  " 

"  Give  her  to  me,  give  her  to  me,"  cried  Thora,  stretching 
out  two  trembling  white  arms. 

"  Carefully  then,  carefully,"  said  Aunt  Margret. 

There  was  no  need  to  fear:  Thora  gathered  her  child  to 
her  breast  with  the  free  and  daring  but  gentle  touch  that 
comes  to  mothers  of  every  species. 

"  My  baby !  My  baby !  "  she  whispered,  and  her  pale  face 
overflowed  with  joy.  "  Yes,  she  is  like  me.  I  can  see  it  my- 
self. But  why  doesn't  she  open  her  eyes?  Is  she  asleep? 
That  can  not  be,  because  she  is  still  sucking.  Coo-coo !  Isn't 
she  beautiful  ?  How  foolish  of  me  to  say  that !  And  yet  it's 
true.    Coo !    My  baby !    My  bootif ul,  bootif ul  baby !  " 

Through  all  this  broken  jargon — the  divine  foolishness  of 
motherhood — the  two  older  women  stood  by,  trying  to  cackle 
and  laugh  behind  their  black  silk  aprons,  but  finding  it  hard 
to  keep  back  their  tears. 

"  Has  Oscar  seen  her  yet  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,"  said  Anna. 

"  But  he  has  come  back,  hasn't  he  ?  Didn't  you  tell  me  he 
had  come  back  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  he  was  quite  worn  out  with  watching  and  I 
sent  him  off  to  bed." 

"Poor  boy!" 

"  And  Magnus  has  come,  too,  but  I  couldn't  get  him  to 
go  to  bed  and  he  still  is  working  away  in  the  kitchen." 

"  What  a  deal  of  trouble  I  am  to  everybody ! " 


150  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  Trouble  ?    We  don't  call  that  trouble." 

"  YouVe  got  a  baby  for  it,  haven't  you? "  said  Thora,  and 
she  looked  down  at  the  treasure  at  her  breast  as  if  she 
had  brought  them  the  wealth  of  the  world.  All  at  once  she 
cried,  "  Oh,  oh !    Look !    Look !  " 

Aunt  Margret,  who  was  at  the  other  side  of  the  room, 
almost  fainted  at  Thora's  sudden  cry. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"  Baby  has  opened  her  eyes,"  said  Thora. 

Aunt  Margret  dropped  to  a  chair  to  breathe. 

"  They're  blue  like  mine.  Oscar's  are  brown,  and  Helga's 
— her's  are  grey.  But  perhaps  baby's  eyes  will  change  their 
color !    Do  children's  eyes  change  their  color,  Anna  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  they  do,"  said  Anna.  "  Blue  eyes  sometimes 
become  brown " 

"  Never  grey  ?  " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of,"  said  Anna. 

"  I'm  so  glad  baby  is  like  me,"  said  Thora,  and  she  gazed 
down  at  the  child  with  looks  of  wonder  and  love.  Then  her 
delicious  selfishness  took  another  turn  and  she  said : 

"  Mother,  do  you  not  think  Oscar  has  slept  long  enough 
now  ? " 

"  Doctor  Olesen  said  he  was  to  sleep  until  to-morrow,"  re- 
plied Anna. 

"  But  couldn't  you  wake  him  up  for  a  moment — just  for  a 
moment,  to  come  and  see  us  as  we  are  now — baby  and  me — 
would  it  do  him  much  harm  ?  " 

"  No,  but  it  would  do  you  a  great  deal.  You  would  over- 
excite  yourself,  and  then,  my  gracious,  I  should  get  into 
trouble." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  shall  be  quite  calm — I  promise  you  I  shall  be 
calm.  And  Oscar  can  come  in  his  dressing-gown  and  then 
go  back  to  sleep.  Do  call  him — do — please  do — Anna,  Aunt 
Margret — mother!  " 

They  could  not  resist  the  pleading  voice,  and  Anna  went 
off  to  Oscar's  room.    Oscar  was  awake. 

"  How  is  she  now  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Still  a  little  weak,  but  getting  stronger  every  hour," 
said  Anna. 

"  And  the  child  ?  " 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  151 

"  She's  got  it  in  bed  with  her,  and  wishes  you  to  come  and 
see  them." 

"  I'll  come  at  once." 

"  Dear  Thora !  She  is  happy  at  last.  I  have  never  seen 
anybody  so  happy.  And  nobody  ever  deserved  happiness 
more.  Just  now  when  I  left  her  she  had  the  eyes  of  a  child. 
But  she  is  still  on  the  brink  of  life  and  death.  It  wouldn't 
need  much  to  make  her  take  flight  from  this  world.  There- 
fore watch  over  your  words,  Oscar,  and  don't  say  anything 
that  will  agitate  her." 

Oscar  promised,  and  then  followed  his  mother  into  Thora's 
bedroom.  At  the  threshold  he  heard  the  soft  "  Boo-oo — 
coo-coo  "  of  motherly  endeannent,  and  then  saw  the  shining 
pale  face  on  the  pillow  with  the  tiny  red  one  below  it. 

"  My  poor  Thora,"  he  said,  kissing  her  forehead,  "  you  are 
not  suffering  now,  are  you?  A  little  pale,  perhaps,  and  a 
little  thin,  but  better,  are  you  not  ? " 

"  Look !  "  she  whispered,  uncovering  the  child  and  having 
no  thoughts  to  waste  on  lesser  matters.  "  Who  is  she  like, 
Oscar?" 

"  Like  ?  Do  you  ask  me  who  she's  like,  Thora  ?  Why,  she's 
like — ridiculously  like  you !  " 

"  Kiss  me,  Oscar.  Put  your  arms  around  both  of  us, 
dearest.    That  way — so." 

But  at  the  next  moment  the  baby  was  crying  and  the  older 
women  were  protesting  loudly. 

"  Come  away  you  great,  clumsy  creature,"  said  Axint 
Margret. 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Thora.  "  It  wasn't  Oscar.  He  never 
hurts  anybody.  It  was  I,  auntie,"  but  auntie,  making  no 
terms  with  such  heroics,  took  the  child  out  of  bed  and  pro- 
seeded  to  rock  it,  face  downward,  across  her  knee. 

When  the  baby  had  been  hushed  to  sleep  they  fell  to  the 
discussion  of  its  name.  Oscar  was  for  "  Thora,"  but  Thora 
herself  said  no,  that  was  her  own  name,  the  name  Oscar 
knew  her  by,  and  therefore  she  could  not  share  it  even 
with  her  child. 

"  Then  what  do  you  say  to  *  Elin  '  ?  "  said  Oscar. 

"  Beautiful !  Anna,  Aunt  Margret,  listen.  Say  it  again, 
Oscar." 


152  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

" '  Elin.' " 

"Isn't  it  lovely  as  Oscar  says  it?" 

So  they  decided  straightway  that  "  Elin  "  it  should  be,  and 
next  came  the  question  of  the  godparents.  Thora  was  for 
Magnus  ("  Poor  Magnus  ")  and  Oscar  assented.  But  when 
Oscar  in  his  turn  nominated  Helga  the  sunshine  died  off 
Thora's  face,  whereupon  Anna  gave  him  a  quick  glance,  and 
began  to  make  a  noise. 

"  Then  Magnus  for  godfather  and  Aunt  Margret  for  god- 
mother," said  Oscar,  and  so  it  was  agreed. 

"  And  let  us  have  the  baptism  to-day,"  said  Thora. 

"To-day?"  cried  Anna.  "Why,  Thora,  a  child  is  never  bap- 
tised on  the  day  of  its  birth  except  when  it  is  going  to  die." 

It  was  now  Aunt  Margret's  turn  to  make  a  noise,  and  this 
she  did  by  wakening  baby  in  rising  suddenly,  and  protesting 
that  Oscar  ought  to  be  turned  out  of  the  room  and  Thora 
left  to  rest. 

"  Yes,  yes,  that's  true,"  said  Oscar,  and  kissing  Thora 
again  he  followed  Aunt  Margret  and  the  baby  into  the 
nursery.  When  they  were  gone,  and  the  door  had  closed  on 
them,  Anna  leaned  over  the  bed  and  whispered : 

"  There !  Didn't  I  know  what  o'clock  it  was  striking  ? 
Hasn't  Oscar  come  back  to  you  ?  When  he  kissed  you  didn't 
you  feel  that  all  his  heart  was  yours  ? " 

"Yes, it  is  true," said  Thora.  "  But  will  it  last,  think  you?" 

"  Certainly,  it  will  last.  Last  night  he  was  reproaching- 
himself  with  all  sorts  of  things,  and  to-day  he  is  like  a  man 
who  is  beginning  over  again  a  new  life." 

"  You  think  so,  Anna  ?    You  really  think  so  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  do.  Depend  upon  it  he'll  not  lose  sight  of  that 
baby  for  five  minutes  in  the  day.  And  he'll  never  look  at 
her  but  he'll  think  of  you." 

"  How  happy  I  am !  I  have  never  been  so  happy  before — 
never,  never ! "  She  took  a  deep  breath  and  closed  her 
shining  eyes  to  ease  the  beating  of  her  heart.  There  was  a 
moment's  silence  and  then  in  another  voice  she  said, 
"Mother?" 

"Yes,  dear?" 

"Last  night — when  I  was  so  ill — didn't  I  say " 

"  Hush !    That's  all  over.    We'll  not  speak  of  it  any  more.'* 


THE   PROr:GAL   SON  153 

"  All  the  same  if  I  could  die  now — now  when  I  am  so 
happy — and  baby,  too " 

And  then  Anna  sank  into  a  chair,  trembling  from  head  to 
foot. 

IX 

Anna  was  right  about  Oscar  and  the  baby — ^he  could  not 
willingly  allow  it  to  be  out  of  his  sight  for  any  five  minutes 
of  the  day  or  night.  When  it  was  to  be  bathed  he  felt  it 
necessary  to  superintend  the  operation,  and  when  it  was  fed 
he  was  compelled  to  keep  watch  and  ward.  He  had  a  thou- 
sand fears  of  accidents  that  might  happen  to  it  and  became 
dizzy  when  it  lay  naked  on  the  edge  of  Aunt  Margret's  lap. 
If  it  cried  while  he  was  in  the  dining-room  he  rushed  up- 
stairs, and  if  anything  fell  on  the  floor  above  he  turned  pale 
and  trembled.  Sleeping  in  the  room  next  to  the  nursery  he 
kept  his  door  open  at  night,  and  if  the  baby  was  fretful  he 
walked  Aunt  Margret  to  and  fro  (being  afraid  to  carry  the 
child  himself)  as  if  she  had  taken  too  much  laudanum. 

Two  days  passed  in  this  way  and  he  was  never  once  out- 
of-doors.  Thora  overheard  him  in  the  adjoining  room,  coax- 
ing and  scolding  Aunt  Margret,  and  talking  or  laughing  to 
the  child,  and  her  heart  overflowed  with  happiness.  "  But 
will  it  last  ? "  she  asked  herself. 

Meantime  Helga,  sitting  at  home,  shut  out  from  these 
joys,  was  feeling  herself  neglected.  On  the  third  day  Oscar 
had  a  message  from  her,  saying  she  wished  to  see  him  on 
an  important  matter  and  asking  him  to  come  round  imme- 
diately. He  could  not  resist  it.  The  little  scented  envelope 
drew  him  like  a  magnet.  Going  out  for  a  walk,  to  think  of 
what  he  should  do,  every  step  took  him  in  the  direction  of 
the  Factor's.  Within  half  an  hour  he  found  himself  in  the 
little  sitting-room  overlooking  the  lake,  and  Helga  was  stand- 
ing before  him  with  head  down,  more  meek  and  modest,  but 
also  more  beautiful  and  irresistible  than  ever  before. 

"  I  have  a  confession  to  make  to  you,"  she  said,  "  and  if 
you  are  angry  with  me  I  must  bear  it." 

She  had  been  the  cause  of  poor  Thora's  sudden  illness. 
Stung  by  the  disappointment  of  some  days  ago  she  had  gone 
11 


154  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

across  to  Government  House  to  reproach  her  sister  with  the 
humiliation  she  had  put  upon  her.  Perhaps  she  had  said  too 
much,  and  more  than  was  true,  and  she  was  sorry  and 
ashamed.  She  could  wish  to  ask  Thora's  forgiveness,  and  if 
Oscar  would  do  it  for  her " 

"  With  pleasure,  Helga,"  said  Oscar.  "  But  all's  well  that 
ends  well,  and  why  should  we  say  more  on  this  subject? " 

"  There  is  another  that  I  wished  to  speak  of,"  said  Helga, 
and  then  came  the  real  burden  of  her  message. 

Poor  Thora's  delirium  had  been  homicidal.  She  had 
threatened  to  take  the  life  of  her  unborn  child.  What  a 
frightful  thing  it  would  be  if  out  of  her  weakness  and  hallu- 
cination she  should  attempt  to  carry  out  her  threat ! 

"  But  that's  all  over  now,  Helga,"  said  Oscar.  "  Since 
her  baby  came  Thora  had  been  as  gentle  as  a  lamb,  and 
running  over  with  tenderness  and  love." 

"  So  I  thought  until  this  morning,"  said  Helga.  "  But 
father  tells  me  that  your  mother  sees  signs  of  dementia 
still." 

"  Good  heavens !  "  cried  Oscar. 

"  Everybody  appears  to  have  heard  of  it  except  you.  I 
thought  it  was  wrong  to  keep  you  in  the  dark,  and  so  I've 
told  you." 

"  Thanks,  Helga,  it  is  good  of  you,  and  if  poor  Thora  is 
still  suffering  in  that  way " 

"  There  can't  be  a  doubt  of  it,  Oscar.  She  told  your 
mother  she  wished  she  could  die,  and  baby  with  her." 

"  She  must  be  watched — the  child,  too.  There  must  be 
nurses  night  and  day." 

"Is  that  enough,  Oscar?  Tou  know  how  cunning  people 
are  when  they  are  suffering  from  dementia.  And  then  a 
child  is  such  a  frail  thing — it's  life  might  be  snuffed  out  in 
an  instant." 

"You  mean  that  baby  should  be  removed?" 

"  It  might  be  safest — for  a  time  at  least.  It  might  come 
here — I  should  take  the  greatest  care  of  it.  But  it  needn't 
change  its  nurse — Aunt  Margret  must  come  home  soon  in 
any  case." 

"  It  must  be  done,  Helga.  It  would  be  too  awful  if  any- 
thing happened  to  the  child.    I  should  go  mad." 


THE   PRODIGAL    SON  155^ 

"  And  then  think  of  Thora.  It  would  be  ten  thousand 
times  more  terrible  for  her." 

"  Poor  Thora !  It  will  break  her  heart,"  said  Oscar.  "  It 
seems  as  if  I  am  doomed  to  bring  grief  and  pain  and  death 
to  her." 

"  We  must  be  cruel  only  to  be  kind,  Oscar.  But  don't  act 
on  my  advice  only  and  for  mercy's  sake  don't  say  I  suggested 
anything.    Ask  somebody  else." 

« I  will." 

"  Ask  the  Governor." 

"The  Governor?" 

At  the  mention  of  that  name  they  paused  and  looked  at 
each  other  in  silence,  as  if  a  ghost  had  passed  between  them. 

"  Any  news  from  Monte  Car — I  mean  Copenhagen  ?  '*^ 
asked  Helga. 

"  Nothing  yet,  but  I  am  in  daily  fear  of  something  hap- 
pening." 

"  Whatever  happens  I  shall  never  forget  that  you  did  that, 
for  me,  Oscar." 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  him,  and  he  took  it,  kept  it  for  a 
moment,  then  kissed  it  passionately  and  fled  from  the  house^. 

Later  the  same  day  a  family  conference  was  held  at  Gov- 
ernment House  to  consider  what  ought  to  be  done.  The 
Governor  and  the  Factor  were  there,  as  well  as  Oscar  and 
Anna.  Aunt  Margret  came  down  last,  having  left  one  o£ 
the  maids  in  charge  of  the  child. 

"  Magnus  is  in  the  nursery  too,"  she  said.  "  He  came  up 
with  wood  for  the  stove  and  Thora  heard  his  voice,  so  now 
they  are  talking  through  the  open  door." 

Doctor  Olesen  had  been  called  into  consultation  and  he- 
gave  a  guarded  opinion.  Such  forms  of  homicidal  mania 
were  due  to  weakness  and  were  usually  transient.  Since  the 
night  of  the  confinement  he  had  seen  no  signs  of  it  himself,. 
but  if  Anna  had  seen  them  he  would  not  take  the  responsi- 
bility of  opposing  the  step  that  was  suggested. 

Anna  rocked  herself  and  moaned  and  said  that  after  all 
she  could  not  be  certain.  She  might  have  mistaken  what 
had  fallen  from  Thora.  Perhaps  the  poor  child  had  been 
thinking  of  something  quite  different. 

Aimt  Margret  was  now  of  the  same  mind,  but  much  more 


156  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

emphatic.  "  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it,"  she  said,  "  and 
I'm  sorry  I  ever  doubted  her.  Thora  is  a  Neilsen,  and  she 
wouldn't  hurt  a  hair  of  the  child's  head." 

"  This  is  no  time  to  indulge  sentimental  feelings,"  said 
the  Governor.  "  If  Thora  is  suffering  from  dementia,  how- 
ever transient,  we  must  protect  her  from  the  dangers  of  her 
weakness.^ 

"  I  agree,  Stephen,"  said  the  Factor.  "  I'm  sorry — I'm 
sorry  for  my  daughter — but  I  agree,  I  agree." 

"  That  is  our  duty — our  plain  duty,"  continued  the  Gov- 
ernor, "  first  to  the  child  who  is  the  offspring — at  present  the 
only  probable  offspring — of  two  families,  and  next  to  the 
poor  young  mother  herself,  than  whom  no  one  would  have 
more  right  to  reproach  us  if  we  failed  to  do  it  and  a  disaster 
occurred." 

"  No  one,  Stephen,  no  one,"  said  the  Factor. 

"  It  seems  so  cruel,  so  dreadfully  cruel,"  said  Anna. 

"  But  it's  all  for  Thora's  own  good,  mother,"  said  Oscar. 

"  I  know,  Oscar,  I  know,  yet  it's  cruel  for  all  that." 

"  But  I  should  like  to  know  who's  going  to  do  it,"  said 
Aunt  Margret.    "  I'm  not,  I  tell  you  flat." 

"  Then  Anna  must  do  it  herself,"  said  the  Governor. 

"  No,  no,  don't  ask  me,"  said  Anna. 

"  Why  not  ?  Who  so  proper  to  do  such  an  act  of  mercy 
and  love?  And  Oscar,  too — Oscar  himself  if  need  be  must 
carry  the  child  over  to  the  Factor's." 

Oscar's  lips  whitened  and  quivered  and  his  heart  clutched 
at  his  ribs. 

It  was  decided  that  the  child  should  be  taken  from  the 
mother  that  night,  as  soon  as  she  was  asleep  and  the  house 
was  quiet. 

"  But  she  goes  to  sleep  with  the  child  at  her  breast  and 
always  awakes  when  it  wants  the  bottle,"  said  Anna.  "  I'll 
give  her  a  draught — she'll  sleep  until  morning,"  said  the 
Doctor. 

"  Oh,  dear  me !  Oh,  dear  me !  I  shall  feel  like  a  thief," 
said  Anna. 

"  Or  like  a  murderer,"  said  Aunt  Margret. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  157 


Meantime  Magnus  in  the  nursery  was  looking  down  at  the 
little  face  in  the  cot,  sometimes  blinking  at  the  light,  some- 
times digging  its  little  fist  into  its  face,  sometimes  gripping 
with  its  tiny  soft  hand  his  own  coarse  finger.  Through 
the  open  door  to  the  adjoining  room  there  came  the  voice 
that  he  knew  so  well,  a  little  weaker,  a  little  thinner,  but 
more  joyous  and  silvery  than  before. 

"  Is  that  you,  Magnus  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Thora." 

"  Have  you  seen  my  little  Elin  ?  " 

"  I'm  looking  at  her  now,  Thora." 

"  Isn't  she  beautiful  ?  Isn't  she   a  darling  ?  " 

"  She's  like  a  little  angel,  Thora." 

A  joyous  thrill  came  from  the  other  room,  and  then  the 
silvery  voice  began  again :  "  She's  awake,  isn't  she  ?  Can't 
I  hear  her  laughing?  She  laughs  already,  the  little  rogue  I 
Do  you  know  you  are  to  be  her  godfather,  Magnus  ?  " 

"I  am?" 

"  Yes,  Oscar  agreed  to  it  immediately,  and  the  baptism. 
is  to  take  place  soon." 

"  It  will  be  the  happiest  moment  of  my  life,  Thora." 

"  Oh,  she'll  give  you  lots  of  trouble.  She's  going  to  be 
such  a  little  mischief.  Can't  you  see  her  growing  up, 
Magnus?" 

"I  see  her  just  like  her  mother  when  she  was  a  child, 
Thora." 

Another  joyous  trill  came  through  the  open  door  and  then 
the  silvery  voice  once  more :  "  She'll  be  going  to  stay  with 
you  at  the  farm  some  day,  and  then  she'll  pull  up  all  the 
flowers  in  your  garden." 

"  She  shall  do  whatever  she  likes,  Thora." 

"  But  there  are  chasms  and  caves  and  rifts  in  the  earth 
there,  aren't  there  ?  " 

"  I'll  keep  watch  on  her,  Thora." 

"  If  she  should  slip  anywhere " 

"  I'll  keep  watch  on  her  all  her  life,  Thora." 


158  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

The  joyous  trill  came  again,  but  with  a  slightly  different 
note:   Then:  "Magnus?" 

"Yes,  Thora?" 

"  Why  don't  you  marry  and  have  a  little  Elin  of  your 
own,  you  know  ?  " 

"I?  Oh,  no."  And  then  a  gruff  laugh  and  something 
about  "  a  poor  farmer." 

"  Don't  say  that,  Magnus." 

Then  the  silvery  voice  that  came  to  him  through  the  open 
door  became  serious  and  sweetly  patronizing,  hoping  he 
would  be  happy  and  prosperous  at  Thingvellir.  It  wasn't  a 
great  life,  certainly,  not  a  distinguished  career  like  Oscar's — 
that  is  to  say  what  Oscar  was  to  be — and  it  wanted  hard  work 
early  and  late,  yet  still 

"  But,  Magnus,  you've  been  here  three  days,  haven't  you? 
How  have  you  been  able  to  spare  thera  2  " 

"  I'll  make  up  for  them  when  I  get  home,  Thora." 

"  But  Anna  says  you  haven't  been  to  bed  since  you  came, 
and  now  the  Proclamation  is  near  an<J  you'll  be  kept  busy  at 
the  Inn  with  that.  " 

"  I'm  strong,  Thora — fearfully  stro^ig,"  said  Magnus. 

Thora  lay  back  in  her  bed  and  with  a  blush  there  was  none 
to  see  said: 

"  Magnus,  I  think — I  really  think  you  would  do  anything 
in  the  world  for  me." 

A  gruff  laugh  came  back  to  her,  half  smothered  as  in  a 
man's  beard,  and  then  a  choking  voice  said,  "  I  believe  I 
would,  Thora." 

"And  if  I  wanted  you — or  baby  wanted  you — I  think 
you  would  follow  us  to  the  ends  of  the  earth." 

"  Only  say  *  Come '  and  I'll  come,  Thora." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and  then  a  merry  laugh 
came  rippling  out  to  him,  and  he  felt  hot  to  the  roots  of  the 
hair. 

"  But  of  course  that  can  not  happen,  Magnus.  We  have 
Oscar,  so  we  can  never  need  you." 

"  No,  you  can  never  need  me,  Thora." 

At  that  moment  Anna  and  Aunt  Margret  came  back, 
heated  and  nervous  after  the  conference,  and  bundled  Mag- 
t^^a  oi^t  of  iixe  room.    Then  while  baby  was  being  bathed  for 


THE    PRODIGAL    SOX  :«59 

bed,  behind  closed  doors,  to  the  customary  chorus  of  screams, 
Anna  combed  out  Thora's  hair  for  the  night,  and  Thora 
talked  of  Magnus. 

"  People  think  him  heavy  and  stupid,  but  he'll  startle 
them  some  day,"  she  said. 

"  Is  it  to  be  plaited  as  usual  ? "  asked  Anna. 

"  Just  as  usual.  But  how  your  hands  tremble  to-night, 
mother!  That's  nursing,  you  know.  Poor  Magnus!  He 
hasn't  a  selfish  thought  in  his  heart.  Any  girl  might  love 
him,  and  perhaps  if  I  had  never  known  Oscar " 

"  Doctor  Olesen  says  you  are  to  take  a  powder  to-night, 
child.    It  will  make  you  sleep  until  morning." 

"  It's  you  that  should  take  the  powder — you  and  Aunt 
Margret." 

"  Ah,  if  I  could  take  it  for  you  I  would,  dear,"  said  Anna. 
"  But  here  it  is — take  it  quickly  or  I  may." 

Thora  drank  from  the  glass  Anna  gave  her  and  said, 
"  There !    It's  gone !    Now  bring  me  baby." 

Aunt  Margret  came  with  the  child,  hushing  it  to  sleep, 
and  put  it  gently  down  into  the  mother's  arms. 

"  The  darling !  She  needs  no  sleeping  draught.  My 
precious,  precious  pet !  But  I  declare — Aunt  Margret'a 
hands  are  trembling,  too !     I've  worn  you  out,  both  of  you." 

"  Nonsense !  Go  to  sleep.  I'm  going  to  put  down  the 
light,"  said  Aunt  Margret,  and  she  lowered  the  lamp  and 
put  it  to  stand  on  a  table  behind  the  bed-curtains. 

"  How  good  you  are  to  me !  Everybody  is  good  to  me," 
came  in  a  fainter  voice  from  the  shadow  of  the  bed. 

"  That  is  because  everybody  loves  you,  Thora,"  said  Anna 
in  a  husky  murmur.  "  You  must  always  believe  that,  what- 
ever happens." 

"  How  sweet  it  is  to  be  loved !  If  I  could  only  think 
that  it  would  last " 

The  baby  became  fretful,  and  Thora  began  to  sing  it  tt» 
sleep. 

"  Sleep,  baby,  sleep, 
Angels  bright  thy  slumbers  keep, 
Sleep,  baby,  sleep." 

Her  drowsy  voice  ran  a  line  and  stopped ;  then  ran  an- 
other line  and  stopped  again,  and  then  the  faint  voice  saidv 


160  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  How  sweet  it  would  be  to  fall  asleep  like  tliis  some  day- 
baby  and  I — and  awake  in  heaven !  " 

"  Hush !  " 

"  I  should  be  sorry  for  Oscar,  but  still " 

The  faint  voice  lisped,  the  soft  breathing  lengthened,  the 
blue  eyelids  closed,  the  pale  lips  parted,  the  white  arms  slack- 
ened, and  then  the  two  children,  mother  and  babe,  lay  to- 
gether in  the  lap  of  sleep. 

There  was  silence  for  some  minutes,  wherein  the  two  older 
women  who  sat  in  the  gloom  like  guilty  things  heard  nothing 
but  the  ticking  of  a  clock.  Then  Aunt  Margret  crept  over 
to  where  Anna  sat  with  her  head  covered  by  her  black  silk 
apron  and  whispered : 

"  Oscar  is  waiting  at  the  door.  If  it  has  to  be  done  at  all 
let  it  be  done  now." 

Anna  uncovered  her  face  and  saw  Oscar  on  the  threshold 
in  his  cloak  and  hat.  She  rose  on  trembling  limbs  and  felt 
her  way  to  the  bedside.  There  she  stood  listening  for  a 
moment  to  Thora's  measured  breathing.  Then  she  drew  the 
mother's  white  arms  apart  and  lifted  the  baby  out  of  them. 

Aunt  Margret  wrapped  a  shawl  about  the  sleeping  child 
and  Oscar  covered  it  with  his  cloak. 

"  The  night  is  warm,  she  will  take  no  harm,"  he  faltered. 
At  the  next  moment  he  had  gone  and  Aunt  Margret  had 
followed  him.  Then  Anna  tottered  into  the  outer  room  and 
sank  into  a  chair  and  covered  her  head  again.  "  Oh,  God 
forgive  me !    God  forgive  me !    God  forgive  me !  "  she  said. 


XI 

The  sun  was  shining  into  the  bedroom  when  Thora  awoke, 
with  a  slight  flush  on  her  pale  cheeks  and  a  look  of  happiness 
in  her  eyes,  and  saw  Anna  rocking  herself  sadly  by  the 
bedside. 

"  Where  is  baby  ?  "  asked  Thora. 

"  Presently,  dear,  presently,"  said  Anna. 

"Where   is   she?" 

"  Lie  quiet,  Thora.    Tou  shall  hear  everything  by  and  by." 

"  But  tell  me  where  is  my  little  Elin,  Anna  ?  " 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  161 

"Promise  me  not  to  excite  yourself,  Thora,  and  I  will 
tell  you  all  about  her." 

Thora  raised  herself  on  her  elbow  and  said  with  quick- 
coming  breath,  "  You  don't  mean  that  you  have  taken  her 


away 


2" 


"  There  now,  you  are  exciting  yourself  already,  Thora." 

"  Have  you  stolen  my  child  away  from  me  ?  "  cried  Thora. 

"  Oh,  dear !  Oh,  dear !  What  things  you  are  saying, 
Thora." 

Thora  thought  a  moment  and  then  she  said,  "  I  am  sorry 
I  said  that,  Anna.  It  was  very,  very  wrong  of  me.  I  know 
you  wouldn't  hurt  me  for  worlds.  But  why  don't  you  tell 
me  where  my  little  girl  is  ?  She's  in  the  nursery,  isn't  she  ? 
You  took  her  away  from  me  in  the  night,  and  now  she's 
asleep  in  her  cot — isn't  that  so  ?  Or  perhaps  Aunt  Margret 
has  taken  her  down  to  the  door  ?  There !  Isn't  that  she  ? — 
that  child  crying  in  the  home-field?  Or  was  it  somebody 
else's  baby  in  the  road  ?  Speak,  Anna !  You  are  only  teasing 
me,  I  know.  But  I'm  so  weak,  so  foolish,  and  my  heart  is 
beating  like  a  drum." 

Anna  continued  to  rock  herself  and  to  moan,  "  Oh,  dear  I 
Oh,  dear!" 

Thora  watched  her  for  a  moment  with  eyes  that  filled 
with  fear,  and  then  called  in  a  shrill  voice,  "  Aunt  Margret !. 
Aunt  Margret !   Aunt  Margret !  " 

"  Aunt  Margret  has  gone,  Thora,"  said  Anna. 

"  Gone !    And  my  baby — has  she  gone  too  ?  " 

Anna  only  rocked  hei-self  and  moaned,  "  Oh,  dear !  Oh, 
dear!" 

Thora  struggled  to  raise  herself  in  bed,  but  her  cheeks 
whitened  and  her  eyes  rolled  and  with  a  loud  scream  she 
fell  back  fainting. 

The  maids  came  running  into  the  bedroom  and  opened 
Thora's  clinched  hands  while  Anna  bathed  her  forehead. 

"  What  have  I  done  ?  Oh,  those  doctors !  Little  they  know 
of  a  mother's  feelings !  It  will  kill  her  in  any  case.  My  poor 
child !     My  poor  child !     Come,  then ;  come,  then !  " 

Thora  recovered  consciousness  after  a  moment,  and  looked 
about  her  with  dazed  eyes. 

"  Oscar !  "  she  said,  "  I  want  to  see  Oscar." 


162  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  And  so  you  shall,  dear,"  said  Anna,  and  she  sent  one  of 
the  maids  across  to  the  Factor's  to  fetch  him  instantly. 
Oscar  came  up-stairs  four  steps  at  a  stride  and  entered  the 
room  like  a  rush  of  wind. 

"  My  poor  Thora !  "  he  said  with  panting  breath,  and  he 
leaned  over  the  bed  to  kiss  her. 

Thora's  eyes,  which  had  been  dry  and  hard,  now  melted 
and  grew  wet.  "  Oscar,"  she  said,  "  your  mother  has  sent  our 
little  Elin  away — stolen  her  fi*om  me  in  the  night — and  I  am 
so  weak  and  faint  I  can  not  get  up  to  follow  her." 

"  Ah,  no,  dear,  not  mother,"  said  Oscar.  "  Lie  quiet  and 
I  will  explain." 

"  Fetch  her  back  to  me,  Oscar.  I  love  my  baby.  I  can  not 
live  without  her." 

"  I  know  you  love  her,  Thora,  and  I  promise  you  that 
you  shall  have  her  back  in  due  time." 

"  No,  no,  dear,  now." 

"  Not  just  yet,  Thora,  but  I  give  you  my  word  for  it  that 
baby  is  safe.    They  are  taking  every  care  of  her." 

"What  right  have  they  to  take  care  of  my  baby?"  cried 
Thora.    "  I  must  have  her  back.    I  will  have  her  back." 

In  Thora's  flashing  eyes,  which  changed  the  character  of 
her  countenance,  and  in  her  voice,  which  was  husky  with 
rage  and  hatred,  there  was  something  of  the  fierce  animal 
which  has  been  robbed  of  its  young.  Oscar  shuddered  at 
sight  of  the  convulsed  and  livid  face,  but  he  answered 
quietly: 

"  Thora,  if  you  give  way  to  feelings  like  those  you  will 
make  yourself  ill  again,  and  then  baby  will  never  come  back 
to  you.  If  you  will  only  listen,  I  will  tell  you  everything. 
You  were  very  bad  before  baby  came,  and  doctor  feared  you 
might  even  do  some  harm  to  her.  Therefore  to  save  you 
from  pain  and  shame  I  took  her  away  from  you  for  a  little 
while — only  for  a  little  while — until  you  were  better  and 
more  sure  of  yourself,  Thora." 

Then  a  great  silence  fell  on  Thora's  bewailing  and  she 
said  in  a  husky  whisper: 

"  So  it  was  you,  Oscar?  " 

"  Well — yes,  dear,  it  was  I — but  what  I  did  was  for  your 
own  good — yours  and  our  little  Elin's.    And  if  you  will  only 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  163 

wait,  only  be  patient,  your  baby  shall  be  brought  back  to 
you  and  we  shall  be  happy." 

Thora's  wet  eyes  dried  of  themselves,  but  it  was  a  glassy 
and  smileless  light  that  came  into  them. 

"  Where  is  my  baby  now  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Not  far  away.  In  fact,  only  at  your  father's.  Aunt 
Margret  wrapped  her  in  a  shawl  and  I  took  her  across 
myself." 

"  Then  you  gave  my  child  to  Helga  ? "  said  Thora. 

"  Well — ^yes,  I  gave  her  to  Helga.  But  Aunt  Margret  ia 
there  now.  And  besides,  I  intend  to  go  over  myself  o£F 
and  on  all  day  long,  so  you  are  not  to  worry  or  be  anxious 
about  anything — not  about  any  single  thing.  You  under- 
stand everything  now,  dear,  do  you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  understand  everything  now,"  said  Thora. 

The  glassy,  smileless  eyes  continued  to  look  up  at  him, 
but  he  mistook  the  light  that  shone  in  them. 

"  That's  a  dear,  good  girl,"  he  said.  "  Everybody  will  be 
delighted  to  hear  you  are  so  reasonable  and  resigned,  because 
everj'body  thought  you  would  be  inconsolable — everybody 
except  Helga." 

"Helga?" 

"  Helga  said  you  would  be  yourself  within  an  hour,  and 
she  was  right.    Helga  knew  you  better  than  any  of  us." 

"  Yes,  Helga  knew  me  better  than  any  of  you,"  said  Thora. 

Then  he  sat  on  the  end  of  the  bed  and  chatted  gaily  on 
many  subjects,  while  Anna,  crying  for  joy  of  the  change  in 
Thora's  spirits,  called  for  her  breakfast  and  coaxed  her  to 
swallow  some  of  it.  He  talked  of  his  work — of  the  work  he 
was  going  to  do  when  he  began,  which  would  be  soon,  very 
soon  now.  Then  of  his  ambitions  in  Parliament,  and  finally 
of  the  Proclamation.  It  was  fixed  for  the  day  after  to- 
morrow, everybody  was  going  to  it  and  the  town  would  be 
empty.  As  for  himself,  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  stay  at 
home  with  Thora,  but  seeing  that  the  celebration  at  Thing- 
vellir  had  been  his  idea  and  that  he  had  taken  such  a  promi- 
nent part  in  it,  people  were  saying  that  it  would  be  a 
thousand  pities  if  he  could  not  be  present. 

"  Then  there's  the  hymn,  you  know,"  said  Oscar.  "  I've 
been  rehearsing  the  choir  and  they  are  very  shaky,  but  if  I 


164  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

thought  the  organist  could  hold  them  together  I  shouldn't 
go  in  any  case." 

"  What  does  Helga  say  ?  "  asked  Thora. 

"Helga?  Oh,Helga?  Helga  says  I  must  go," replied  Oscar. 

"  So  do  I/'  said  Thora. 

"  You  do  ?  Really  ?  What  a  sweet,  unselfish  soul  it  is,  to 
be  sure."  said  Oscar,  and  kissing  Thora  on  the  forehead  he 
ran  back  to  see  Elin. 

The  glassy,  smileless  eyes  on  the  pillow  followed  him  out 
of  the  room,  but  their  light  was  the  light  of  despair. 


xn 

Going  out  of  Government  House  Oscar  came  upon  Mag- 
nus, who  was  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase,  riding- 
whip  in  hand,  and  with  Golden  Mane  at  the  door  of  the 
porch.  By  the  dark  cloud  on  Magnus's  face  Oscar  could 
see  that  his  brother  was  in  a  sullen  and  rebellious  mood,  and 
to  avoid  further  hostilities  he  saluted  him  and  tried  to 
run  on. 

"  Wait,"  said  Magnus. 

"  Another  time,"  said  Oscar. 

"  Now,"  said  Magnus,  and  laying  his  big  hand  on  Oscar's 
arm,  he  drew  him  back  into  the  hall. 

Oscar  flushed  up  at  the  indignity  and  said  sharply,  "  Well, 
what  is  it?" 

"  Oscar,"  said  Magnus,  "  I  heard  what  passed  in  the  bed- 
room." 

"  Then  you  were  listening  ?  " 

"  I  was." 

"  You  are  not  ashamed  to  say  you  were  listening  on  the 
stairs — on  your  hands  and  knees  perhaps — to  my  conversa- 
tion with  my  wife?" 

"  I  would  have  listened  on  my  belly  if  need  be,"  said  Mag- 
nus, and  his  face  darkened  more  and  more. 

"  May  I  ask  why  you  listened  ?  "  said  Oscar. 

"  Because  I  could  not  do  otherwise." 

"How  so?" 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  165 

"  I  had  given  my  word  to  be  here  when  wanted." 

"  To  my  wife  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  will  excuse  my  saying,  Magnus,  that  it  would  be 
much  better  if  you  attended  to  your  own  business." 

"  This  is  my  own  business.  Oscar,  you  must  give  the 
child  back  to  Thora." 

"  Keally,  Magnus,  you  are  taking  a  most  unwarrantable 
liberty.    If  you  were  not  my  brother " 

"  Shah !     Give  the  mother  her  child." 

"  Good  Lord,  man,"  said  Oscar,  breathing  hard  as  if  he  had 
been  rimning,  "  do  you  really  think  that  I  am  going  to  allow 
an  outsider,  even  if  he  is  my  brother,  to  dictate  to  me 
what  I  shall  do  with  my  family  difficulties  and  to  travel  all 
the  way  from  Thingvellir  to  conduct  my  domestic  affairs? 
What  right  have  you  to  mix  yourself  in  my  business — the 
business  of  my  wife  and  me  ? " 

The  cloud  that  contracted  Magnus's  face  grew  darker 
every  moment,  and  he  said : 

"  You  ask  me  what  right  ?  " 

« I  do." 

"  I  loved  Thora  Neilsen." 

"  You  think  it  necessary  to  tell  me  that  ? "  said  Oscar. 
"  To  remind  me  that  she  threw  you  up  for  me  ? " 

"  That's  a  lie,  Oscar  Stephenson." 

"  Strong !  "  said  Oscar,  with  a  laugh,  but  he  was  trembling 
visibly. 

"  I  gave  her  up  when  I  could  have  kept  her  to  her  word. 
I  decided  in  favor  of  the  girl's  happiness  against  my  own. 
I  gave  her  up  to  you  that  you  might  make  her  happy.  Those 
were  the  terms  on  which  I  gave  her  up  to  you,  and  what  is 
the  result?  What  is  the  result,  I  ask  you?  You  have  al- 
lowed another  woman  to  take  her  place." 

"  Another  woman  ?  "  said  Oscar.  "  Is  that  the  way  you 
talk  of  her  own  sister — of  Helga  ?  " 

"  Sister  or  not,  she  has  tortured  Thora  by  every  art  her 
selfish  soul  could  think  of,"  said  Magnus.  "  That's  what  she 
has  done,  and  you  have  helped  her,  and  the  treasure  I  valued 
more  than  my  life  you  have  flung  away." 

Oscar  made  a  cry  of  protest,  but  Magnus  bore  him  down 


166  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

with  a  torrent  of  words  such  as  never  came  from  his  silent 
lips  before. 

"  Do  you  think  I  don't  know  what  kind  of  life  you  led  that 
poor  unhappy  child  while  you  were  away — you  and  the  girl 
together?  And  now  that  her  baby  comes  and  her  husband 
returns  to  her,  as  he  must  if  he  is  a  man,  you  let  her  sister's 
scheming  heart  rob  her  of  her  only  happiness." 

Again  Oscar  with  his  whitening  lips  did  his  best  to  laugh. 
"  Magnus,"  he  said,  "  it  is  impossible  to  be  angry  with  you. 
Apparently  you  do  not  know  that  it  was  with  the  consent  of 
the  family  and  by  the  advice  of  the  doctor  that  the  child  was 
taken  from  its  mother." 

"  Bah !  Do  you  think  I  don't  know  who  suggested  it  ? 
.  .  .  Do  you  think  that  I  don't  see  her  object?  Do  you 
think  I  don't  hear  her  pitiful  pleas — the  same  as  if  I  had 
listened  to  them!  The  little  innocent  is  in  danger  of  its 
life!  It  must  come  to  her — she  must  take  charge  of  it. 
Why?  To  bring  you  back  to  her  feet — to  attach  you  to  her 
at  any  cost.  And  you  like  a  fool  fall  into  her  plans — because 
you  want  to — because  you  don't  know  yourself  or  your  wife 
or  the  woman  that  isn't  worthy  to  tie  her  shoes." 

Oscar  winced  under  Magnus's  words,  for  they  cut  him 
to  the  bone. 

"  Oscar,"  said  Magnus  again,  "  you  will  give  the  child 
back  to  the  mother — it  will  be  best,  I  promise  you." 

"  I  have  my  ovm  opinion  of  what  is  best,"  said  Oscar, 
bridling,  "  and  if  I  think  that  for  the  time  being  mother 
and  child  are  best  apart " 

"  Oscar  Stephenson,"  interrupted  Magnus,  "  you  will  give 
the  child  back  to  the  mother." 

"  And  if  I  refuse,  by  what  right  will  you  command  me  ? " 
said  Oscar. 

"  By  the  right  I  acquired  when  I  gave  Thora  up  to  you," 
replied  Magnus. 

"  And  by  the  right  I  acquired  when  she  became  my  wife 
I  will  do  with  her  child  as  I  think  proijer,"  said  Oscar, 

At  that  Magnus  lost  all  control  of  himself. 

"  Is  she  a  dog  that  you  can  take  her  whelps  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  The  law  gives  me  the  right  to  dispose  of  her  oflsprLng 
as  I  think  proper,"  said  Oscar. 


THE    PKODIGAL    SON  167 

"  Then  damn  the  law,"  cried  Magnus.  "  And  if  you  are 
deaf  to  my  entreaties  I — ^I  will " 

"  Go  on,"  said  Oscar.  "  It  will  not  be  the  first  time  that 
you  have  threatened  to  break  the  law." 

"  You  are  breaking  that  poor  girl's  heart,  yet  you  talk 
to  me  about  breaking  the  law.  But  I'll  do  more  than  that. 
If  you  will  not  give  the  child  to  its  mother  I  will  take  it 
by  force  and  give  it  back  to  her  myself.  And  if  any  man 
tries  to  prevent  me,  no  matter  who  he  is  or  what  he  is,  by 
God  I'll  break  his  teeth  down  his  throat." 

Flinging  down  his  riding-whip  Magnus  had  taken  a  step 
forward  and  lifted  his  clinched  fist  into  Oscar's  quivering 
face  when  a  cry  came  from  the  head  of  the  staircase :  "  Mag- 
nus !    Oscar !    Magnus !    Magnus !  " 

It  was  Anna.  She  ran  down  and  put  herself  between  the 
two  men — the  slight,  lithe  figure  and  fair  head  of  Oscar, 
and  the  burly  form  and  swarthy  face  of  Magnus,  both  pant- 
ing hard  and  livid  with  rage  and  hate. 

"  My  sons !  My  sons !  For  shame !  For  shame !  "  she 
cried.  "Every  word  could  be  heard  in  the  bedroom  and 
Thora  is  crying  her  eyes  out." 

Magnus  dropped  his  arm  and  fell  aside  a  pace  or  two, 
rebuked  and  ashamed,  but  Oscar  stood  with  an  unflinching 
front  where  his  mother  had  found  him. 

"  Magnus — Oscar,"  continued  Anna,  "  if  you  both  love  the 
poor  girl  who  is  lying  helpless  up-stairs,  isn't  that  a  reason 
why  you  should  be  friends  and  not  enemies  ?  And  then  think 
of  me,  my  sons.  I  am  your  mother.  Surely  the  sons  of  one 
mother  can  live  at  peace.  I  nursed  you  both  when  you  were 
little  ones  and  if  there  should  be  strife  between  you  now, 
and  blows  and  perhaps  bloodshed,  it  would  kill  me — I  could 
never  survive  it." 

Then  she  turned  toward  Magnus  and  said,  as  well  as  she 
could  for  the  tears  that  choked  her : 

"  Magnus,  you  mustn't  be  angry  with  Oscar.  He  is  your 
younger  brother,  remember.  You  and  he  slept  in  the 
same  bed  when  you  were  children.  And  when  he  was  a 
boy  you  used  to  carry  him  on  your  back  and  fight  all  his 
battles." 

Magnus  groaned  and  turned  again  until  he  stood  side- 


168  THE   PRODIGAL    SON 

ways  to  his  mother,  and  thinking  he  was  not  to  be  moved, 
she  faced  about  to  Oscar. 

"  Oscar,"  she  said,  "  you  must  make  peace  with  Magnus. 
You  must,  if  only  for  Thora's  sake.  Remember,  you  have  got 
her,  Oscar,  and  if  it  is  true  that  Magnus  gave  her  up  to 
you,  although  he  loved  her  himself,  think  of  the  sacrifice 
he  must  have  made  for  both  of  you!  Perhaps  he  loves  her 
still,  and  has  condemned  himself  to  life-long  loneliness  be- 
cause he  has  lost  her.  And  perhaps  he  weeps  his  heart  out 
for  her  the  long  nights  through.  Love  that  suffers  like  that 
has  a  great  excuse,  Oscar.  Doesn't  it  give  him  a  right  to 
look  to  Thora's  happiness  ?  And  if  he  thinks  she  is  suffering 
for  want  of  her  little  Elin " 

Oscar's  throat  was  hurting  him,  and  in  a  husky  voice 
he  said,  "  She  shall  have  the  child  back,  mother.  If  the 
doctor  says  it  is  safe  she  shall  have  the  child  back  imme- 
diately." 

"  There !  "  said  Anna.  "  That's  fair — nothing  could  be 
fairer  than  that,  Magnus.  Come,  now,  you  must  shake 
hands  with  Oscar." 

She  put  her  hand  on  Magnus's  arm,  but  he  did  not  move. 

"  Magnus,"  she  said,  "  your  mother's  love  may  be  all  that 
is  left  to  you  now,  but  it  will  last  long,  my  son.  You  need 
not  give  it  up  to  any  one,  and  no  one  can  take  it  away. 
After  all  a  mother's  love  is  best.  It  will  cling  to  you  and 
comfort  you  whatever  you  do  and  whatever  the  world  may  do 
to  you.  Magnus,  you  must  make  friends  with  your  brother — 
for  your  mother's  sake,  Magnus " 

Magnus  turned  about  and  saw  Oscar  before  him  with 
broken  face  and  outstretched  hand.  Then  his  own  hand 
swung  out,  drew  back,  swung  out  again,  and  at  the  next 
moment  the  big,  burly  fellow  had  flung  his  arms  about  Os- 
car's neck  and  was  sobbing  over  him  like  a  child. 

Two  minutes  later  Magnus  was  on  his  way  home,  cracking 
his  long  whip  over  Golden  Mane's  flying  head  and  whooping 
and  galloping  like  a  madman. 


PART  IV 


'•  For  some  we  loved,  the  loveliest  and  the  best 
That  from  his  vintage  rolling  time  hath  pres 
Have  drunk  their  cup  a  round  or  two  before, 
And  one  by  one  crept  silently  to  rest. " 


The  day  of  the  Proclamation  of  the  Laws  was  to  be  kept 
as  a  general  holiday.  A  hundred  pack  horses,  carrying  tents 
and  provisions,  had  left  the  little  capital  for  Thingvellir  the 
day  before.  The  Danish  man-of-war  anchored  in  the  fiord 
had  lent  half  its  flags  and  the  Order  of  Good  Templars  had 
sent  all  their  insignia.  It  was  to  be  a  gx-eat  and  gorgeous 
spectacle. 

Before  daybreak  the  town  was  astir,  and  elderly  people  on 
slow  ponies  were  setting  out  on  their  journey.  Evei-ybody 
was  on  horseback,  for  the  way  was  long  and  Iceland  had 
few  roads  and  no  coaches.  Soon  after  dawn  the  Governor 
started  off  in  his  cocked  hat,  and  with  his  Inverness  belted 
over  the  bright  gold  of  his  oflScial  uniform.  Factor  IsTeilsen 
rode  beside  him,  and  the  Bishop,  the  Chief  Justice  and  most 
of  the  Thingmen  followed  in  his  train.  The  idea  of  reviving 
a  great  ceremony  of  ancient  days,  and  clasping  hands  with 
the  mighty  dead  over  a  gulf  of  a  thousand  years,  had  taken 
hold  of  everybody's  imagination. 

Oscar  Stephenson,  who  had  been  the  first  to  think  of  it, 
was  among  the  last  to  go.  He  had  been  round  to  the  Factor's 
house  to  see  the  child  and  to  fetch  Helga.  The  sun  was 
reddening  the  sky  over  the  eastern  hills  when  they  mounted 
their  fleet  young  ponies.  It  was  a  quiet  morning,  with 
the  promise  of  a  radiant  day. 

Helga  wore  her  woolen  helmet  and  a  fur  cape  over  a  white 
jersey.  Oscar  was  in  riding  dress,  with  his  new  Italian 
15  169 


170  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

cloak  hung  loose  from  his  shoulders.  Their  way  out  of  the 
town  lay  past  the  end  of  Government  House,  under  the  win- 
dows of  Thora's  bedroom,  and  Oscar  stopped  and  called  up 
to  it. 

"  Helloa !    Helloa !  "  cried  Oscar. 

"Is  it  worth  while  to  waken  her?"  said  Helga. 

But  the  window  opened  and  Anna's  face  appeared  at  it. 

"  It's  Oscar,"  she  said,  facing  back  into  the  room. 

"  Good-by,  Thora !    We'll  be  back  this  evening," 

There  was  an  indistinct  murmur  from  within,  and  then 
Anna  said,  "  Thora  says  *  Good-by '  and  you  are  not  to  hurry 
home  on  her  account." 

Oscar  laughed  and  answered,  "  We'll  see,  we'll  see."  And 
then  the  riders  put  their  heels  to  their  ponies  and  bounded 
away.  Helga  was  in  high  spirits,  but  the  clouds  hung  on 
Oscar  and  he  tried  in  vain  to  banish  them. 

"  All  goes  well,  doesn't  it  ?  "  asked  Helga. 

"  God  knows,"  said  Oscar.  "  She's  quiet  certainly,  and  ap- 
parently resigned.  Yet  her  eyes  are  so  dry,  her  lips  so  pale, 
and  her  cheeks  so  white  and  thin " 

"  But  what  else  can  you  expect  four  days  after  her  con- 
finement ? "  said  Helga. 

"True!  But  I've  never  seen  her  quite  like  this  before. 
It  is  almost  as  if  a  wall  of  ice  had  frozen  about  her  soul." 

"  You  took  my  advice,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"I  did." 

"  And  what  did  the  Governor  say  ?  " 

"  He  said  Magnus's  interference  was  an  impertinence^ 
and  he  wouldn't  hear  of  it  for  a  moment." 

"  So  things  are  to  remain  as  they  are  ? " 

"  As  they  are,"  said  Oscar. 

"  And  what  about  Magnus  himself  ?  "  asked  Helga. 

"  Magnus  is  at  the  farm." 

"  But  if  he  should  come  back  while  everybody  is  away  ?  " 

"  He  can  not  come  back  to-day — his  guests  will  keep  him 
busy." 

"  But  if  he  should  in  spite  of  everything  ?  " 

"  In  that  case,"  said  Oscar,  dropping  his  voice  and  turning 
his  head,  "  the  Sheriff  has  orders  to  deal  with  him." 

By  this  time  they  had  come  to  the  tail  of  the  train  which 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  171 

had  started  before  them,  and  the  dust  and  the  noise  of  the 
clattering  caravan  were  too  much  for  Helga. 

"  Let  us  go  round  by  the  hot  springs  and  come  out  ahead 
of  them,"  she  said,  and  they  went  cantering  down  a  lane  to 
the  left  where  vapor  floated  over  a  flowing  stream.  Half  an 
hour  later  they  returned  to  the  main  road,  forded  a  river 
and  toited  up  a  hill  beyond  it.  The  cavalcade  was  now  far 
behind  them,  and  the  little  wooden  capital  was  a  long  way 
off,  with  its  feet  in  the  grey  fiord  and  the  white  encircling 
arms  of  the  snow-covered  hills  stretching  out  to  the  bright- 
ening line  of  the  sea  and  sky. 

"  There ! "  said  Helga,  drawing  rein  and  looking  at  Oscar 
with  a  sparkle  in  her  eyes. 

"  Poor  little  Tliora !  I  was  sorry  to  leave  her.  But  I 
dare  say  everything  will  be  well,"  said  Oscar. 

"  Sure  to  be,"  said  Helga. 

"  Is  that  a  steamer  out  there — out  by  the  head  ?  "  asked 
Oscar. 

"  Undoubtedly  it  is  a  steamer,"  replied  Helga. 

"  The  *  Laura '  is  a  day  late — she  was  due  to  arrive  yes- 
terday." 

"  Then  it's  the  *  Laura '  to  a  certainty." 

The  sun  had  now  risen,  but  Oscar  shivered  as  with  cold. 
"  I  must  be  a  miserable  coward,  Helga,  for  the  sight  of  a 
mail-ship  frightens  me,"  he  said. 

But  Helga  only  laughed  and  held  up  a  warning  hand. 
"We'll  not  talk  of  that  to-day,  Oscar — not  to-day  at  all 
events.  Look !  "  she  cried,  pointing  to  the  line  of  moving 
forms  on  the  brown  streak  of  road  that  ran  through  the  plain 
of  black  lava.  "  Look  at  your  tribe  down  yonder.  Don't 
you  feel  like  Mahomet  going  back  to  Mecca?  Or  like  Jacob 
going  up  to  the  Mount  of  Gilead  with  his  flocks  and  his 
herds  and " 

"  And  his  wives  ?  "  said  Oscar. 

"Yes,  and  his  wives,"  laughed  Helga,  and  then  both 
laughed  together. 

They  put  heels  to  their  ponies  again  and  Helga  sang  to 
herself  as  they  swung  along. 

''What  a  fool  I  am,"  thought  Oscar.  "Why  should  I 
meet  misf ortime  before  it  comes  ?    And  why  should  I  trouble 


172  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

so  much  about  Thora?  Isn't  Helga  as  greatly  to  be  pitied  f 
In  the  wretched  tangle  of  our  fate  hers  is  the  knot  that  can 
never  be  untied.  Yet  how  happy  she  looks !  Why  shouldn't 
I  be  happy? " 

"  Helga !  "  said  Oscar,  when  they  slowed  do%vn  again,  "  you 
wouldn't  like  to  have  lived  in  those  old  days  I  suppose  ? " 

"  Certainly  I  should,"  said  Helga. 

"  What  ?    And  share  your  husband  with  another  woman  ?  '* 

"  That's  nothing.  Women  do  the  same  in  these  days,  you 
know." 

And  then  they  laughed  again,  though  with  a  dubious 
gaiety,  and  broke  into  a  canter  once  more. 

"  I'm  a  brute,"  thought  Oscar.  "  And  badly  as  I  have  in- 
jured Thora  the  wrong  I  have  done  to  Helga  is  still  more 
terrible.  For  her  there  is  no  outlook,  no  prospect,  no  future. 
She  must  go  back  to  Denmark  and  I  must  go  on  with  my 
duty.  But  why  shouldn't  we  have  one  day  of  happiness  first  ? 
One  day  of  delight  before  the  dream  is  over?" 

They  drew  up  at  a  river  that  ran  by  the  road  to  wateH 
their  ponies  and  to  take  off  their  cloaks  and  pack  them  be- 
hind their  saddles,  for  the  sun  was  now  bright  and  the  air 
was  warm. 

"  There's  one  curious  point  about  the  patriarchs,"  said 
Oscar. 

"  And  what's  that?  "  asked  Helga. 

"  Clearly  they  thought  it  possible  for  a  man  to  love  more 
than  one  woman." 

"  And  can't  he  ?  "  said  Helga. 

"  I  ask  2/ow,"  said  Oscar — "  can't  a  man  love  more  than  one 
"woman  ? " 

"Why  not?  Aren't  we  all  told  to  love  one  another?" 
laughed  Helga,  and  then  Oscar  lifted  her  in  his  arms  and 
swung  her  back  to  her  saddle  and  they  started  on  their 
journey  afresh. 

Their  road  lay  through  a  bleak  and  barren  country,  past 
red  hills  of  volcanic  sand  and  jagged  mouths  of  extinct  vol- 
canoes, over  a  deep  dale  of  lava  rocks,  rutted  with  paths  and 
scored  with  fissures,  but  brightened  by  a  farmstead  here  and 
there  with  its  little  green-roofed  elt  house  smoking  for 
breakfast  and  its  hummocked  home-field  gleaming  like  a 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  173 

gem  in  a  ■wilderness  of  waste.  At  the  last  of  these  farms 
they  stopped  to  rest  their  ponies  and  to  refresh  themselves, 
being  now  half-way  to  Thingvellir,  with  the  caravan  far 
behind  them. 

An  untidy  man  in  his  shirt-sleeves  took  possession  of  their 
ponies  and  a  slatternly  housewife  in  a  soiled  apron  brought 
them  milk  and  skyr.  She  was  still  young,  but  already  she 
had  three  children.  One  of  them  was  whimpering  at  her 
breast,  another  was  dragging  at  her  skirts  and  the  third  was 
bellowing  for  her  from  the  floor  above.  She  belonged  to  the 
capital  and  had  once  been  considered  a  beauty,  but  she  was 
seven  years  married  and  it  was  six  since  she  had  seen  the 
town. 

"  There !  "  said  Oscar,  when  they  returned  to  the  road. 
"  That's  the  patriarchal  life,  if  you  please." 

"  Then  I'm  done  with  it,"  said  Helga.  "  Ugh!  To  think 
of  being  buried  in  a  place  like  that,  year  in  year  out,  with 
three  children  and  only  one  man!  It  might  do  for  Thora, 
but  give  me  life,  life,  life !  " 

"  And  the  man  who  gives  you  that  may  have  you  body 
and  soul,  perhaps  ?  "  said  Oscar. 

"  Body  and  soul,"  laughed  Helga. 

For  the  next  hour  their  course  lay  across  an  almost  track- 
less heath,  bare  as  a  desert  and  flat  as  an  inland  sea.  The 
mountains  that  bounded  it  were  stark  and  cold  and  far  away 
— on  the  one  side  steep  with  running  screes  and  on  the  other 
side  clouded  with  steaming  vapor,  which  rose  out  of  the 
glistening  snow.  Not  a  house  was  to  be  seen  on  any  side, 
not  a  tree  or  a  bush  or  a  flower  or  a  plant,  and  hardly  a 
blade  of  grass,  but  only  a  broad  stretch  of  silver  moss,  leaden 
and  dull,  like  the  mold  on  a  dead  man's  face.  No  birds 
sang  in  that  solitude,  but  sometimes  the  wimbrel  sent  its 
long  love  cry  across  the  waste ;  sometimes  the  wild  swan  sped 
far  overhead  and  uttered  its  eerie  ululation,  and  sometimes 
the  raven  perched  on  a  stone  and  croaked  out  its  melan- 
choly note.  A  line  of  beacons,  broken  and  old,  each  with  a 
projecting  stone  like  an  amputated  arm,  showed  the  course 
of  the  road,  going  on  and  on  like  soldiers  in  single  file  tramp- 
ing back  after  a  lost  battle.  Midway  on  the  Heath  there 
was  a  House  of  Rest  for  travelers  overtaken  by  the  storms  of 


174  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

•winter — a  little  hut,  half  cubicle  and  half  stable,  with  noth- 
ing but  a  plank  bed  and  a  truss  of  hay. 

"  Gracious  heavens,  what  a  place  to  be  lost  in  in  a  snow- 
storm," said  Helga. 

"  But  what  a  country  for  Saga  and  song,"  said  Oscar, 
"  and  if  some  one  could  set  it  to  music,  grim  as  its  glaciers 
and  fierce  as  its  fires,  it  would  take  the  world  by  storm." 

"  Do  it,  Oscar,  do  it,  and  I'll  love  you,"  cried  Helga. 

"As  we  are  commanded  to  love  one  another? "asked  Oscar. 

"  Perhaps,"  laughed  Helga,  and  when  he  swung  her  to  the 
saddle  again  her  hand  slipped  from  his  shoulder  and  his  lipa 
touched  her  cheek. 

After  that  they  both  sang  as  they  cantered  along,  for  the 
clouds  that  had  hung  over  Oscar  had  gone  by  this  time,  and 
if  the  ground  was  grey  the  sky  was  blue  and  their  blood  wag 
red  and  warm. 

But  suddenly  a  new  scene  opened  at  their  feet — a  deep 
plain  with  a  shining  blue  lake  in  the  midst  of  it,  splashed 
with  islands  like  spots  on  an  eagle's  egg  and  fenced  by  soft 
green  fells.  It  was  a  dream  in  a  desolate  land,  a  cistern 
of  sunshine  encircled  by  countless  peaks  which  stood  round 
it  clothed  in  white,  like  a  surpliced  choir  that  were  singing 
their  hymns  to  God.  The  black  lava  was  there  as  elsewhere, 
and  the  valley  was  blistered  with  mounds  and  wrinkled  with 
ruts  and  scored  with  fissures ;  but  the  blood-root  grew  in  the 
clefts  of  the  jagged  rocks  and  the  blueberry  hung  over  the 
face  of  the  gaping  chasms,  and  it  was  almost  as  if  an  angel 
had  passed  over  the  surface  torn  by  earthquakes  and  brushed 
it  with  the  bloom  of  his  wings. 

This  was  Thingvellir,  the  place  of  the  Proclamation,  the 
Thing-place  of  the  Northlands,  the  scene  of  a  hundred 
Sagas,  the  subject  of  a  thousand  songs. 

Oscar  and  Helga  were  now  near  the  end  of  their  journey 
and  they  watched  for  the  townspeople  to  overtake  them. 
Half  an  hour  later  the  caravan  came  up  in  a  cloud  of  dust, 
all  noisy,  but  good-natured  and  ravenous  for  breakfast.  There 
were  some  shouts  at  the  pioneers,  and  certain  dubious  com- 
pliments, but  Oscar  did  not  hear  and  Helga  did  not  heed. 
They  took  their  places  behind  the  Governor,  and  went  down 
to  the  law-plain  in  his  train. 


THE    PKODIGAL    SON  175 

The  way  to  it  was  through  a  wide  chasm  whose  parallel 
walls  stood  up  on  either  side  of  the  steep  causeway  like  the 
ruined  street  of  some  prehistoric  city,  but  thrice  grander 
and  more  awesome  than  any  work  of  the  hand  of  man,  be- 
cause straight  from  the  loins  of  nature  and  rent  from  the 
womb  of  the  earth.  There  were  great  openings  as  of  arches, 
empty  spaces  as  of  windows,  broken  peaks  as  of  pediments 
and  curious  stones  as  of  carvings,  all  shaken  from  their 
foundations  and  toppling  as  if  to  fall ;  while  over  them,  from 
beetling  side  to  side,  hung  the  gay  flags  of  the  Danish  man- 
of-war,  and  through  them  came  the  bright  shafts  of  the 
morning  sun. 

Half-way  down  the  gorge  there  was  a  mound  like  a  plat- 
form (the  "  Law-mount "  explained  Oscar  to  Helga)  and  at 
the  foot  of  it  there  was  a  pool  whose  clear  green  depths 
looked  cold  and  chill  in  the  palm  of  the  cliffs  that  dai'k- 
ened  it. 

"  That's  the  drowning  pool,"  said  Oscar.  "  When  a  woman 
was  unfaithful  to  her  husband  they  hurled  her  from  the 
rocks  into  the  water." 

"  And  what  did  they  do  with  the  imf  aithf  ul  men  ? " 
laughed  Helga. 

From  the  edge  of  the  pool  a  frothy  river  fell  with  a 
thunderous  clamor  over  a  precipice  to  the  valley  below,  where 
it  forked  into  many  fingers  and  ran  off  to  the  margin  of  the 
lake.  Beyond  these  rivulets  there  was  the  rutted  plain,  now 
dotted  over  with  tents,  but  having  only  two  houses  within 
eight — the  little  wooden  parsonage  with  its  tiny  church  built 
of  stone  and  shingles  and  the  Inn-farm  of  Magnus  Stephen- 
eon. 

Magnus  himself  stood  waiting  there,  washed  and  dressed, 
after  working  the  whole  night  through  with  his  man  John 
Vidalin,  to  prepare  for  his  expected  guests.  And  when  Oscar 
rode  up,  a  little  excited  and  confused,  he  received  him  with 
the  cheerful  face  of  one  who  had  made  his  peace  with  his 
brother  and  meant  to  keep  it. 

"  How's  Thora  to-day  ?  "  asked  Magnus,  as  he  loosened  the 
girths  of  Oscar's  saddle;  and  Oscar  answered  nervously: 

"  Better — that  is  to  say — ^well,  perhaps  not  so  very  well  to- 
day, Magnus." 


176  THE    PKODIGAL    SON 

"  Her  child  has  been  given  back  to  her?  "  said  Magnus. 

"  Kot  yet,"  said  Oscar.  "  To  tell  you  the  truth,  the  Gov- 
ernor— ,"  and  then  he  faltered  out  the  sequel  to  his  broken 
promise.    Magnus's  face  darkened,  and  he  said : 

"  So  the  doctor  has  not  been  consulted  at  all  ?  " 

"  No.  In  the  teeth  of  the  Governor's  orders  it  was  plainly 
impossible " 

"  And  Thora  is  still  at  Government  House  and  her  child 
is  still  at  the  Factor's  ? " 

"  That  is  so." 

Magnus  looked  from  Oscar  to  Helga,  who  now  stood 
beside  him,  and  his  face  darkened  more  and  more. 

"  John  Vidalin,"  he  cried  in  a  thick  voice  over  his  shoulder 
to  a  man  behind  him,  "  saddle  my  horse — I  am  going  to 
Reykjavik." 

"  But  Magnus,"  said  the  servant-man,  "  with  all  this 
work  to  do  to-day  and  all  this  money  coming " 

"  Saddle  it  quick,"  cried  Magnus,  like  a  man  who  was 
choking. 

"  Magnus,"  said  Oscar,  "  for  your  own  sake  I  think  it  only 
right  to  tell  you " 

But  Magnus  cut  him  short  by  turning  on  his  heel. 

"Let  him  go,"  said  Helga,  and  before  the  people  in  the 
tents  and  the  Inn-farm  had  settled  down  to  brealcfast  Mag- 
nus was  riding  back  to  town. 


n 

Meantime  Thora  at  home  was  in  the  throes  of  a  great 
temptation.  She  had  heard  the  peace-making  between  Mag- 
nus and  her  husband  and  had  said  to  herself,  "  Oscar  will 
go  to  see  Dr.  Olesen  at  once,  aiad  the  dear  doctor  will  say: 
*  Certainly,  the  little  mother  is  quite  well  enough  now  to  take 
care  of  her  baby — give  the  child  back  to  her  inunediately.' " 
Then  Oscar  would  come  rushing  up-stairs,  and  her  room 
would  be  the  same  as  if  a  window  had  blown  open,  and  he 
would  cry,  "Hip-hip-hurrah!  Doctor  says  baby  may  come 
back  1  "  and  then  Anna  would  take  him  by  the  shoulders  and 
turn  him  out  and  everybody  would  laugh. 


THE   PRODIGAL    SON  177 

But  Oscar  was  long  in  coming,  and  when  he  came  he  said 
nothing  about  the  doctor.  He  only  talked  about  their  little 
Elin,  and  said  he  had  just  returned  from  seeing  her. 
She  was  so  rosy  and  well,  and  she  was  beginning  to  "  notice." 
If  you  held  out  your  finger  she  looked  at  it  as  if  it  were 
the  bough  of  a  great  tree,  and  then  held  it  tight  as  if  her 
little  body  hung  by  it. 

"  I  couldn't  tear  myself  away  from  her,  Thora,"  he  said. 
"  It's  wonderful  what  a  lot  of  pleasure  you  can  get  out  of 
a  baby." 

It  was  strange  that  Oscar  did  not  see  that  he  was  hurting 
her  every  minute,  but  she  only  thought,  "  I  know  what  it  is — 
he  is  going  to  take  me  by  surprise.  He  doesn't  want  to  tell 
me  that  baby  is  coming  until  she  comes.  He  will  bring  her 
back  as  he  took  her  away,  in  the  night,  while  I  am  asleep; 
and  when  I  awake  in  the  morning  she  will  be  there." 

In  this  sweet  hope  Thora  closed  her  eyes  early  that  even- 
ing, before  the  red  glow  of  the  sunset  had  quite  gone  from 
the  walls  of  her  room,  saying  a  little  prayer  for  Oscar,  and 
another  little  prayer  for  Elin,  that  she  might  be  as  lovely  as 
ever  when  she  saw  her  in  the  morning;  and  then  she  fell 
asleep. 

When  she  awoke  next  day  she  listened  for  the  baby's 
breathing,  and  thinking  she  heard  it  she  stretched  out  a 
gentle  hand  to  the  place  where  the  child  should  lie,  and  then 
with  a  smile  she  opened  her  eyes.  But  her  baby  was  not 
there,  and  the  sun  in  the  room  died  out. 

When  the  doctor  came  to  see  her  that  morning  he  looked 
grave  and  anxious.  "  I'm  afraid  my  little  patient  is  worry- 
ing overmuch,"  he  said.  "  The  head  is  hot  and  there  is 
some  fever.  She  must  lie  quiet,  perfectly  quiet  for  the  next 
few  days,  or  I  won't  answer  for  what  may  happen." 

Only  this,  not  a  word  about  baby,  and  even  when  the  doc- 
tor took  Anna  into  the  nursery  to  give  the  usual  instructions 
Thora  listened  intently,  but  there  was  not  a  syllable  about 
the  child. 

The  Governor  came  next,  with  the  odor  of  snuff  on  his 
gold-laced  coat,  and  he  stroked  Thora's  arm  as  it  lay  on  the 
counterpane,  and  said  she  was  not  to  worry  about  anything. 

"  My  dear  little  daughter  must  get  better  as  fast  as  ever 


178  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

she  can,"  he  said.  "  She  must  eat  more  and  if  she  wants  any- 
thing she  must  ask  for  it  and  she  shall  have  it,  whatever  it  is." 

She  tried  to  say  that  all  she  wanted  was  her  little  baby, 
and  if  they  would  give  her  that  she  would  soon  be  well,  but 
her  throat  was  hurting  and  she  could  not  speak. 

Her  own  father  came  last,  smelling  of  breakfast  and 
st'*ong  tobacco,  and  he  rallied  her  in  a  loud  voice. 

"  Tut,  tut !  This  will  never  do !  We'll  have  to  send  you 
away  again,  with  Helga  to  look  after  you.  And  look  here, 
young  lady,  you've  got  to  get  better  soon  and  come  and  carry 
away  that  baby.  She's  turning  our  house  upside  down.  No- 
body over  there  can  see  the  sun  for  that  little  mite,  and  Aunt 
Margret  and  Auntie  Helga  haven't  a  thought  for  anybody 
else." 

By  this  time  the  conviction  had  forced  itself  upon  Thora's 
mind  that  the  family  had  agreed  that  the  child  was  not  to 
be  returned  to  her,  and  that  Helga  was  responsible  for  this 
cruel  resolution.  Then  a  fierce  passion  took  possession  of 
her,  such  as  she  had  never  known  before.  She  hated  her  sis- 
ter with  a  terrible  hatred.  Helga,  who  had  first  robbed  her 
of  her  husband,  had  now  robbed  her  of  her  child,  and  throw- 
ing dust  in  her  people's  eyes  had  used  her  weakness  as  an 
excuse  and  a  blind.  But  she  would  defeat  her,  she  would 
defeat  everybody,  she  would  get  back  her  child  whatever  the 
consequences,  and  not  all  the  powers  of  earth  or  heaven  or 
hell  should  take  it  away  from  her  again. 

The  intensity  of  her  feeling,  if  it  could  have  been  realized 
by  those  about  her,  would  have  made  her  sweet  and  gentle 
soul  unrecognizable.  She  was  like  a  feline  animal  robbed  of 
its  young  and  going  out  to  recover  it.  All  the  other  passions 
and  emotions  that  had  ever  possessed  her — love  of  her  hus- 
band, affection  for  Anna  and  Aunt  Margret  and  her  father 
and  the  Governor,  pity  for  Magnus  and  tenderness  toward 
all  living  things — were  burnt  up  by  the  one  consuming  de- 
sire— the  desire  for  her  child.  It  made  her  terrible,  it  made 
her  cruel,  it  made  her  cunning. 

Thora  determined  to  steal  back  her  own  child. 

The  following  day — the  day  of  the  Proclamation — would 
give  her  an  opportunity  of  doing  so.  Nearly  everybody 
■would  then  be  at  Thingvellir,  therefore  her  path  would  be 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  179 

more  clear.  Only  Anna  would  stay  at  home  to  attend  to 
herself,  and  Aunt  Margret  to  attend  to  the  child.  Her  one 
feverish  anxiety  was  that  Oscar  should  not  stay  behind  as 
well,  for  if  Oscar  were  to  remain  Helga  would  remain  also 
and  then  her  scheme  would  come  to  naught. 

Thora  lay  awake  the  whole  night  through.  Before  day- 
break she  heard  the  people  shouting  in  the  darkness;  at 
dawn  she  heard  the  departure  of  the  Governor,  and  when 
Oscar  called  up  at  her  window  she  knew  that  Helga  was 
with  him,  for  she  heard  the  hoofs  of  two  horses. 

When  everybody  had  gone  she  lay  back  on  her  pillow 
with  a  sigh  of  immense  relief. 

"  How  soon  will  they  be  back,  mother  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Not  much  before  midnight,  I'm  afraid.  But  you  must 
not  fret  after  anybody,  my  child,  for  everything  shall  be 
done  for  you,"  said  Anna. 

Then  the  transparent  young  soul,  in  the  fierce  fire  of  its 
temptation,  began  to  lay  plans  for  deceiving  Anna  and  for 
getting  her  out  of  the  way.    At  one  moment  she  said : 

"  Haven't  you  any  errands  to  do  this  morning,  dear — in 
the  town,  I  mean — being  left  alone,  you  know,  and  even  the 
servants  gone? " 

"  Errands  ?  Bless  your  dear  heart,  it's  like  Sunday  in 
town  to-day  and  not  a  shop  open  anywhere,"  said  Anna. 

At  another  moment  Thora  said: 

"  Mother,  if  you  wish  to  go  down  into  the  kitchen  to  cook 
you  needn't  think  of  me  ?  " 

"  The  cooking  is  all  done,  dear,"  said  Anna.  "  Maria  did  it 
yesterday,  and  I've  nothing  to  do  now  but  warm  up  the 
dishes  on  the  nursery  stove.  So  I  needn't  leave  you  for  a 
minute,  you  see." 

Thora  was  beginning  to  be  restless  in  her  perplexity,  but 
presently  she  thought,  "  I  know !  I'll  tell  her  to  lie  down 
after  dinner,  and  then  I'll  get  up  and  dress  and  go." 

That  suggested  thoughts  about  her  clothes,  which  had  been 
taken  off  on  the  night  of  her  attack  and  packed  away  some- 
where. There  would  be  drawers  to  open  and  search,  and  that 
would  take  time  and  make  noises.    So  she  said : 

"  Mother,  dear,  don't  you  think  my  clothes  must  be  getting 
damp  lying  so  long  unused  ?  " 


180  THE    PKODIGAL    SON 

"  Damp  ?  In  five  days  and  the  middle  of  summer,  too ! " 
cried  Anna. 

"  Still,  it  would  be  nice  to  see  them  airing — it  would  make 
me  think  of  getting  up,  you  know." 

"  Then  you  shall,  sweetheart,  certainly  you  shall,"  said 
Anna,  and  with  the  playfulness  of  one  who  indulges  a  child 
the  good  soul  took  Thora's  clothes  out  of  a  wardrobe,  held 
them  up  to  her  one  by  one,  and  then  hung  them  on  the 
chairs  in  front  of  the  stove  in  the  nurseiy,  clucking  and 
crowing  of  the  day  when  Thora  would  put  them  on  and  go 
down-stairs,  with  wraps  and  scarves,  and  Oscar  helping  her. 

Thora  watched  intently  and  then  said : 

"I  haven't  seen  my  cloak  yet,  mother." 

"  Your  cloak !  Your  outdoor  cloak !  Bless  me,  what  a 
heart  she  has  to  be  sure !  But  no,  no !  We'll  all  be  dancing 
with  delight  if  you  need  that  for  the  next  three  weeks, 
Thora." 

The  hours  lagged  cruelly  before  dinner,  and  after  it  the 
sun's  line  on  the  wall  was  long  in  leaving  the  bed;  but  at 
last  three  o'clock  struck  on  the  Bornholme  clock  below  stairs 
and  then  Thora  said : 

"  Mother,  I'm  sure  you  are  very  tired — I  wish  you  would 
go  to  your  room  and  rest." 

"  And  leave  my  honey  alone  ?    l^ot  I,"  said  Anna. 

"  But  I  want  to  rest  myself  and  I  can't  rest  unless  you  are 
resting." 

"  If  you  really  think  you'll  sleep  better " 

"  I'm  sure  I  shall,"  said  Thora. 

'"  Well — seeing  you  slept  so  little  last  night,"  said  Anna, 
and  Thora  began  to  yawn  and  sigh. 

"  I'll  leave  both  doors  open  then.  And  see,  Thora — I'll  put 
this  little  handbell  on  the  table,  and  if  you  awake  and  want 
me — I  sleep  like  a  cat,  you  know,  the  least  noise  wakens 


"  Good  night,  mother,"  said  Thora  in  a  drowsy  tone,  and 
Anna,  smiling  and  nodding  to  herself  over  Thora's  "  error," 
stole  on  tiptoe  out  of  the  room. 

Thora  listened  for  the  last  footfall  in  the  corridor  and 
then  raised  herself  in  bed.  She  was  alone  at  last,  and  the 
time  had  come  to  defeat  the  conspiracy  of  love  and  kindnessi. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  181 

prompted  by  jealousy  and  envy,  that  had  robbed  her  of  her 
child.  Her  child,  her  child !  She  must  get  back  her  child, 
whatever  it  might  cost  her! 

She  dropped  to  the  floor  and  in  doing  so  she  brushed  the 
hand-bell  off  the  table.  It  fell  to  the  carpet  with  a  deadened 
clang,  and  for  a  moment  she  held  her  breath  and  listened. 
But  there  was  no  sound  from  Anna's  room,  so  she  clutched 
at  the  bedclothes  and  stood  erect.  Then  the  walls  went 
round,  and  she  knew  for  the  first  time  how  weak  she  was. 
But  her  heart  was  strong  if  her  limbs  were  feeble,  and  she 
found  her  way  to  the  nursery,  where  her  clothes  still  hung 
over  the  backs  of  chairs.  It  was  a  weary  task  to  put  them 
on,  but  her  purpose  never  flagged.  At  last  she  was  dressed 
and  looking  at  herself  in  the  glass.  Her  eyes  were  red,  her 
lips  were  pale,  and  her  cheeks  were  sucked  in  and  white. 
Nobody  would  know  her  who  met  her  in  the  street,  yet  still 
if  she  could  find  her  cloak 

The  Bornholme  clock  chimed  half  past  three,  and  Thora 
began  to  steal  down  the  corridor.  She  had  to  go  by  Anna's 
bedroom  and  the  door  was  standing  open.  Anna's  shawl  lay 
on  a  chair  within  and  she  snatched  it  up  and  wrapped  it  over 
her  shoulders  and  her  head.  Then  she  went  down-stairs. 
Her  limbs  trembled  under  her,  but  not  from  fear,  and  if  any- 
body had  tried  to  stop  her  now  she  would  have  fought  like 
a  fiend. 

"  My  child  is  mine !  "  she  thought.  "  What  right  have  they 
to  keep  her  from  me  ?  " 

The  next  moment  she  was  in  the  street. 


m 

The  Bornholme  clock  struck  four.  Anna  awoke  and  hear- 
ing no  sound  from  Thora's  room  she  went  back  to  the  nur- 
sery and  busied  herself  noiselessly  at  the  stove. 

Presently  the  lace  curtains  in  the  bedroom  were  rustled 
by  the  wind  from  an  open  window  and  Anna  cried  through 
the  door: 

"  Lie  quiet,  Thora — I'm  making  tea,"  and  then  she  began 
to  sing  to  herself  in  the  voice  of  her  youth. 


182  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

A  few  minutes  later  she  said,  "  That  sleep  must  have  made 
me  stupid — I've  actually  put  in  the  hot  water  before  the  tea- 
leaves." 

Soon  afterwards  she  sailed  into  Thora's  room  with  the 
tea  tray  in  both  hands  and  a  smile  on  her  face,  saying, 
"  Here  it  is,  but  you'll  thank  your  stars  when  Maxia  comes 
back  in  the  morning." 

She  was  setting  down  the  tray  on  the  round  tabic  by  th© 
beside  where  the  hand-bell  should  have  been,  when  her  eyes 
fell  on  the  empty  bed.  Iler  breath  jumped  in  her  throat,  and 
she  turned  her  head  slowly  over  her  shoulder,  calling, 
"Thora!" 

There  was  no  answer ;  the  room  was  empty.  Anna  remem- 
bered the  clothes  which  she  had  laid  out  on  the  chairs  iu 
the  nursery.  They  were  gone.  "  Thora !  Thora  1 "  she  cried, 
in  an  agitated  whisper. 

Then  the  smile  came  back  to  her  face.  "  I  know,"  she 
thought.  "  Thora  has  dressed  herself  and  gone  down  to  the 
drawing-room,  just  to  show  me  what  she  can  do." 

At  that  thought  the  smile  was  chased  away  by  a  mighty 
frown.  "  But  I'll  give  it  her,"  she  thought,  and  down- 
stairs she  went  with  a  determined  step  and  banged  the 
drawing-room  door  back  saying,  "  Keally,  Thora,  it  is  very 
naughty " 

But  the  protest  died  in  her  throat,  for  Thora  was  not 
there.  Then  her  heart  shook  like  a  leaf  stiffened  by  hoar 
frost  and  she  ran  through  the  house,  from  room  to  room, 
crying  in  a  voice  shrill  with  fear  and  thickened  by  sobs, 
"  Thora,  where  are  you  ?  Thora !  Honey  !  Don't  hide  your- 
self from  me !    Thora !    Thora !  " 

At  that  moment  Grolden  Mane  came  tolting  up  to  the  green 
and  Magnus  entered  the  house.  Hearing  his  mother's  voice 
he  ran  up-stairs,  and  came  face  to  face  with  Anna  in  the 
corridor. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Thora's  lost,"  said  Anna. 

"Lost?" 

**  She  coaxed  me  to  lie  down  this  afternoon,  and  while  I 
was  asleep  she  got  up  and  dressed  herself,  and  she  is  gone." 

"  Let  us  be  sure  first,"  said  Magnus,  and  the  slow  fellow 


THE    PRODIGAL    SOIT  183 

shot  through  the  house  like  a  torpedo,  while  Anna  sat  on 
the  chair  by  the  door  of  her  own  room  and  wrung  her  hands 
and  reproached  herself. 

"  Oh,  dear !  Oh,  dear !  What  have  I  done  ?  How  can  I 
ever  forgive  myself?  The  poor  child  was  not  herself — she 
didn't  know  what  she  was  doing." 

Magnus  returned  with  a  slow  step,  saying,  "  Be  quiet, 
mother !  Can't  you  see  what  has  happened  ?  Thora  has  gone 
to  the  child." 

"  The  child  ?  The  Factor's  ?  God  grant  you  may  be  right, 
Magnus.     But  she  hasn't  mentioned  the  baby  for  two  days." 

"  JSTeTCrtheless,"  said  Magnus,  "  her  poor  heart  has  been 
torn  to  pieces  by  this  accursed  scheme  of  separating  her  from 
her  child,  and  she  has  gone  to  join  it." 

"  Let  us  go  and  see,"  said  Anna.  "  But,  oh  dear,  what 
a  thing  to  do!  And  she  so  ill  and  weak!  It  will  kill  her! 
Oh,  why  did  I  leave  her  for  an  instant?  What  will  Oscar 
say?" 

"  If  Oscar's  wise  he  will  say  nothing,"  said  Magnus.  "  And 
if  anything  happens,  and  he  has  any  conscience,  he'll  damn 
himself  to  the  last  day  of  his  life." 

"  Don't  say  that,  Magnus,"  said  Anna.  "  If  there  was 
anything  wrong  we  were  all  to  blame  for  it.  It  wasn't  Os- 
car's fault " 

"  Certainly,  it  was  Oscar's  fault,"  said  Magnus.  "  It  was 
Oscar's  fault  that  he  allowed  Helga  to  twist  him  round  her 
finger  and  make  you  all  her  miserable  slaves." 

"  Where  is  my  shawl  ?  I  laid  it  down  somewhere,  and  now 
I  can  not  find  it.  But  let  us  go.  And  don't  be  hard  on  your 
:^:other,  Magnus.     She  was  trying  to  do  her  best " 

"  It's  not  you  I'm  blaming,  mother,"  said  Magnus,  "  but 
if,"  he  added,  and  his  words  came  through  his  clinched 
teeth,  "  if  there  were  a  law  in  this  infernal  land  to  punish 
people  like  Oscar,  as  sure  as  I  live  I  should  be  the  first  to 
use  it." 

They  were  going  out  of  the  house  when  three  men  came 
up  to  the  door — the  Sheriff  and  two  strangers. 

"  Good  evening,  Mi-s.  Anna,"  said  the  Sheriff.  "  These 
gentlemen  are  ofiicials  from  Copenhagen,  just  arrived  by  the 
'Laura.'     They  wish  to  see  the  Governor  on  an  important 


184  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

matter,  and  I  thought  perhaps  you  could  tell  them  when  he 
■will  be  back  from  Thingvellir." 

"  I  can't  say — I  don't  know — I  am  in  a  great  hurry,"  said 
Anna. 

"  This  young  man,"  said  the  Sheriff  to  the  strangers,  "  is 
the  elder  son  of  the  Governor,  and  if  you  would  like  to 
speak  to  him " 

"  We  should,"  answered  the  men. 

"Is  it  so  very  important?  My  son  is  going  out  with  me. 
Can't  the  matter  wait  until  to-morrow?  "  said  Anna. 

"  Go  on  ahead,  mother — I'll  follow  you  presently,"  said 
Magnus,  and  while  Anna  hurried  away,  he  led  the  strangers 
into  the  Governor's  office.  One  of  the  two  men  took  a  paper 
from  an  inner  breast  pocket  and  said : 

"  Naturally,  you  know  your  father's  handwriting  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  said  Magnus. 

"  And  of  course  you  are  familiar  with  his  signature. 

"  I  am." 

"  Will  you  be  good  enough  to  say  if  this  is  your  father'* 
signature  ? "  said  the  man,  opening  his  paper  and  handing 
it  to  Magnus. 

It  was  a  note  of  hand  in  favor  of  Oscar  Stephenson  for 
an  advance  of  one  hundred  thousand  crowns,  signed  in  the 
name  of  the  Governor  and  witnessed  by  the  Factor. 

The  world  reeled  round  Magnus,  for  he  saw  in  a  moment 
what  the  paper  meant.  It  was  almost  as  if  his  prayer  to 
punish  Oscar  had  been  answered  on  the  instant.  The  paper 
rustled  in  his  hand  and  for  some  seconds  he  did  not  speak. 
Then  he  lifted  his  face  and  said : 

"  You  ask  me  if  this  is  my  father's  signature.  Don't  you 
think  it  would  be  more  proper  to  ask  my  father  himself  ?  " 

"No  doubt — certainly — you  are  right,"  said  the  stranger, 
"  but  to  protect  your  father — not  to  say  yourself  per- 
haps  " 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Magnus,  and  he  handed  the  paper  back. 

"  Magnus,"  said  the  Sheriff,  "  I  was  told  to  watch  you  if 
you  came  to  town  to-day,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  somebody 
else  in  your  family  needs  watching  a  good  deal  more.  Will 
you  not  give  us  your  assistance  ? " 

Magnus  shuddered  in  the  toils  of  his  temptation.    A  voic« 


THE    PEODIGAL    SON  185 

wJ.thin  cried,  "  Speak !  Denounce  him !  Now's  your  time !  " 
His  lower  lip  quivered,  his  eyelids  trembled,  and  he 
answered  in  a  hoarse  voice : 

"  The  Governor  will  not  be  back  until  midnight — let  mo 
come  to  you  to-morrow  morning." 

"  Good ! "  said  the  Sheriff,  whereupon  Magnus  showed 
them  out  of  the  house  and  then  fled  away  to  the  Factor's. 

"  That  big  fellow  will  speak  when  he  wants  to,"  said  one 
of  the  strangers  as  the  three  men  walked  down  the  street, 
"  and  when  he  doesn't  the  devil  himself  won't  make  him 
do  so." 


IV 

Of  two  ways  to  the  Factor's  Thora  had  taken  the  shortest 
and  most  frequented,  yet  she  had  gone  through  the  streets 
unobserved.  Coming  near  the  house  she  had  passed  the 
Sheriff  and  the  two  strangers,  but  they  were  immersed  in 
their  conversation  and  did  not  see  her  as  she  stumbled  by 
them  with  her  head  covered  up  in  Anna's  shawl. 

Twice  she  had  stopped  to  take  breath,  and  once  she  had 
steadied  herself  by  a  lamp-post,  for  she  was  dizzy  and  her 
ankles  ached.  The  little  distance  which  had  hitherto  seemed 
so  short  was  now  a  great  journey,  but  it  came  to  an  end  at 
length,  and  she  approached  her  father's  house  from  the  front. 

She  had  intended  to  creep  up  softly,  enter  by  stealth,  listen 
until  she  learned  where  the  child  was  kept,  watch  until  Aunt 
Margret  left  the  little  one  alone  for  a  moment  and  then 
steal  into  the  room  and  take  it. 

With  this  purpose  she  ascended  the  stone  steps  to  the  front 
entrance  and  gently  turned  the  handle,  but  as  soon  as  she 
had  given  the  door  a  noiseless  push,  there  was  the  loud  ring- 
ing of  a  bell  which  had  not  been  there  before. 

At  the  next  moment  there  was  a  sound  of  slippered  feet 
coming  hurriedly  down-stairs  and  before  her  dizzy  brain 
could  tell  what  to  do  Aunt  Margret  was  peering  into  her 
face. 

"  Mercy  me,  is  it   you  ? "    cried  Aunt  Margret,  and  she 
looked  as  if  she  were  ready  to  drop. 
13 


J.86  THE    PKODIGAL    SON 

Witli  a  crushing  sense  of  failure  Thora  stood  silent  and 
her  heart  fluttered  like  a  captured  bird. 

"  Good  Lord !  How  did  you  get  here  alone  ?  And  what 
on  earth  was  Anna  doing  to  let  you  come  ? "  said  Aunt 
Margret. 

Then  with  a  convulsive  little  burst  Thora  said,  "  Anna 
knew  nothing  about  it,  Aunt  Margret — she  was  asleep — I 
came  to  see  baby."  And  then  she  broke  down  utterly,  leaned 
against  the  doorpost  and  cried  like  a  child. 

The  kind  soul  with  the  sharp  tongue  could  bear  no  more. 
"  And  so  you  shall,  dear.  Certainly  you  shall,  my  pretty 
poppet,"  she  said  with  infinite  compassion.  "  As  sure  as  my 
name  is  Margret  N^eilsen  you  shall,"  she  said  again,  with 
stem  determination.  "They  have  left  me  here  as  a  watch- 
dog with  an  order  that  nobody  is  to  come  near  the  child,  but 
that  was  meant  for  somebody  else — somebody  who  was  going 
to  steal  it — so  they  said — though  what  a  grown  man  can 
want  with  a  suckling  infant  it  baffles  my  stupid  old  head  to 
see.  But  what  a  silly  I  am  to  keep  you  at  the  door !  Come 
up-stairs,  my  precious.  Go  before  me,  Thora,  dear!  That's 
right — but  not  so  quick — you  shall  see  your  baby  soon 
enough.  And  Thora,  darling,  if  I  haven't  exactly  tried  to 
take  it  back  to  you  it  wasn't  because  I  didn't  love  you,  and 
feel  for  you,  and  suffer  with  you,  my  poor  child,  but  because 
your  father  and  Helga  and  even  Oscar — no,  the  other  way, 
Thora — baby  is  in  the  front  bedroom." 

"  Is  she  well  ? "  said  Thora,  breathing  quickly  as  she 
reached  the  landing. 

"  She's  as  well  as  well,  and  so  rosy  and  bonny — look !  "  said 
Aunt  Margret,  pushing  ahead  of  Thora  and  opening  the 
bedroom  door. 

But  having  climbed  the  stairs  so  much  too  rapidly,  Thora 
paused  at  the  threshold  of  the  room  and  held  her  left  hand 
hard  against  her  side.  "  Wait !  I  can't  go  in  yet,"  she  said. 
"  Not  just  yet.  Aunt  Margret.    Is  she  asleep  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she's  fast  asleep,  bless  her !  " 

"  Is  that  her  breathing  ?  " 

"No,  that's  the  cat.  Yes,  it  is  the  baby.  But  come,  my 
own,  come,"  said  Aunt  Margret,  and  then,  holding  her 
breath,  the  young  mother  entered  the  room. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  187 

The  child  was  sleeping  in  a  cradle  with  a  hood  covered 
with  light  blue  lace,  and  its  little  head,  streaked  with  yeliow 
hair,  lay  red  against  the  white  pillow.  A  cat  purred  on  the 
floor  in  a  warm  shaft  from  the  setting  sun,  and  all  was  sweet 
and  peaceful. 

"  My  baby !  My  baby !  "  cried  Thora,  and  she  sank  down 
on  her  knees  by  the  cot  and  stretched  her  arms  over  it  like 
a  bird  covering  its  nest  with  her  sheltering  wings. 

The  child  was  awakened  by  the  soft  gale  of  its  mother's 
breath  on  its  sleeping  face  and  it  began  to  cry,  whereupon 
Thora  gathered  it  iu  her  arms  and  lifted  it  out  of  the  cot 
and  nursed  it  lovingly,  holding  its  little  plunging  hand  in 
her  own  hand,  so  thin  and  white  and  delicate. 

"  It's  her  bottle  she  wants,  Thora,"  said  Aunt  Margret, 
"  and  here  it  is  ready  and  waiting — I  keep  it  warm  on  the 
top  of  the  stove." 

"  Let  me  give  it  her,  let  me  give  it  her,"  cried  Thora. 

"  Do  you  think  you  can,  my  pretty  ?  But  of  course  you 
can!  My  goodness,  it's  wonderful — when  a  person  is  a 
mother  she  can  do  anything  with  a  baby.  An  angel  seems 
to  whisper,  '  Do  that,'  and  she  does  it,  and  it's  just  right  for 
the  child." 

The  little  creature  was  now  sucking  vigorously  with  its 
tiny  face  toward  the  mother's  breast  and  its  plump  red  hand 
on  her  pallid  cheek. 

"  But  it's  you  that  wants  milk,  ray  child,"  said  Aunt  Mar- 
gret, "  Yes,  and  some  spirits  too,  and  you  shall  have  both 
in  a  minute.  Lay  your  poor  head  against  this  pillow,  my 
precious,  and  wait  while  I  get  the  decanter." 

The  child  was  now  dropping  off  to  sleep  and  Thora  looked 
lovingly  down  at  it  and  said : 

"  God  bless  my  motherless  baby !  " 

"  Motherless,  indeed !  Who  says  she's  motherless  ?  She 
has  too  many  mothers,  it  seems  to  me,"  said  Aunt  Margret. 

The  tit  slipped  from  the  child's  slackening  lips,  and 
Thora  leaned  down  and  kissed  away  the  drops  that  trickled 
from  the  little  mouth. 

"  I  wish  I  could  die,"  she  said.  "  I  wish  I  could  die  now, 
Aunt  Margret." 

And  Aunt  Margret,  who  was  snuffling  audibly,  said,  "  Die, 


18S  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

indeed!  Just  <3rink  off  this  drop  of  brandy  and  water  and 
don't  talk  such  nonsense." 

Thora  drank  the  brandy  and  straightway  her  weakness 
left  her,  and  with  the  return  of  her  strength  the  secret  pur- 
pose which  had  brought  her  to  the  house  revived. 

"  I  must  be  quick,"  she  thought.    "  Anna  will  follow  me." 

The  innocent  selfishness  of  her  starved  and  injured 
motherhood  knew  no  conscience,  and  she  set  herself  to  con- 
sider how  she  could  get  rid  of  Aunt  Margret  and  so  carry 
away  the  child.  That  was  a  perplexing  problem,  and  she  sat 
long  to  think  it  out,  but  accident  solved  it  at  last. 

*'  Goodness  me,"  Aunt  Margret  was  saying,  "  how  lovely 
you  look,  sitting  there  with  the  child !  But  what  a  fit  some 
people  would  have  if  they  could  drop  in  and  see  you !  They 
can't,  thank  goodness!  They're  thirty  miles  away,  and  be- 
fore they  get  back  you'll  be  gone,  and  nobody  a  penny  the 
wiser.  WTien  the  cat's  away  the  mice  will  play !  But  mercy 
me,  what  a  stonn  there  would  be  if  they  ever  came  to  know 
that  I  had  let  you  touch  the  little  angel!  I  don't  know 
which  is  the  worst  on  that  subject — your  father,  or  Oscar, 
or  Helga.  I  think  Helga  is  the  worst  if  you  ask  me.  You're 
a  Neilsen,  Thora,  but  Helga — she's  a  sheep  from  another 
sheepfold.  She's  so  cute,  and  she  has  such  ways  with  her. 
It  was  Helga  who  put  those  bells  on  the  door,  and  when  I 
heard  you  coming  in  I  thought,  *  It's  that  Sheriff  again,'  but 
you  could  have  knocked  me  down  with  a  feather —  Good 
gracious ! " 

Aunt  Margret,  who  was  looking  out  of  the  window,  sud- 
denly threw  up  her  hands. 

"What  is  it?"  said  Thora. 

"  It  is — no — yes,  it's  Anna !  And  the  Sheriff  and  two  of- 
ficers are  coming  behind  her!  " 

"  They're  coming  for  me,"  cried  Thora.  "  They  want  to 
tear  me  away  from  my  baby.  Go  down  and  stop  them,  Aunt 
Margret.  Say  I'm  not  here — say  I'm  gone — say  any- 
thing  " 

"  Hush,  dear,  don't  excite  yourself.  Leave  Margret  Neil- 
sen  to  manage  this  little  matter.  I'll  take  Anna  and  the 
Sheriff  into  the  back  parlor  and  tell  them  something.  Then 
you'll  slip  out  by  the  front  and  get  back  home  and  nobody 
will  know." 


THE   PRODIGAL    SON  18^ 

"Yes,  yes,  that  will  do,"  said  Thora. 

"You'll  be  as  quiet  as  a  mouse,  and  I'll  make  lots  of 
noises." 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes." 

There  was  the  clang  of  a  bell  from  below,  and  Aunt  Mar- 
gret  whispered,  "  There  they  are !  Now  put  baby  back  in 
the  cot,  my  own,  and  cover  her  up  with  the  blanket." 

"  Not  yet,  let  me  kiss  her  again,  just  for  the  last  time," 
said  Thora. 

An  agitated  voice  came  from  the  bottom  of  the  stairs^ 
"  Margret !    Margret  Neilsen !  " 

"  I  must  go — be  quick,"  whispered  Aunt  Margret,  and 
scuttling  down-stairs,  she  cried,  "  I'm  coming,"  and  then 
there  was  a  rumble  of  confused  voices,  followed  by  the  closing" 
of  a  door. 

Thora  was  alone  once  more,  and  the  feverish  strength  of 
outraged  motherhood  possessed  her  like  a  madness.  "  They've 
come  to  take  my  child  again,"  she  thought. 

In  a  moment  she  had  slipped  off  her  slippers,  snatched 
up  the  blanket  and  wrapped  it  about  the  sleeping  infant, 
crept  down  the  stairs  in  stocking  feet  and  out  of  the  house 
by  a  back  passage. 


Meantime  a  little  tragi-comedy  was  being  acted  in  the' 
back  parlor.  Anna  was  white  and  trembling,  while  Aunt 
Margret  was  looking  wondrous  wise  and  subtle. 

"  Thora  ? "  gasped  Anna.  "  Have  you  seen  anything  of 
Thora?" 

"  Have  I  seen  anything  of  Thora  ?  You  must  be  dream- 
ing, Anna  dear." 

"  Then  she  has  gone,  and  I  was  right  after  all,"  said  Anna^ 

"  Can  it  be  possible  ?  "  said  Aunt  Margret. 

"  Magnus  would  have  it  that  she  had  gone  to  see  the  baby,, 
but  she  has  gone  farther  than  that,  poor  child,  and  we  shall 
never  see  her  again." 

"  What  a  pity !  "  said  Aunt  Margret,  and  then  Anna  flew 
out  at  her. 

"Margret  Neilsen,  don't  you  understand  what  I  am  say- 


190  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

ing  ?  The  poor  child  was  demented,  and  she  stole  out  while 
I  was  asleep  and  goodness  knows  what  she  has  done  with 
herself." 

"  Hush !  Hold  your  tongue,  Anna,  and  come  into  this 
room  and  I'll  tell  you  something.  Magnus  was  right  after 
all." 

"  Then  she  has  been  here  ?  " 

"  She's  here  now — she's  up-staii*s  this  very  minute." 

"  Oh,  thank  the  Lord " 

"  Don't  speak,  or  the  poor  thing  will  hear  you.  And  don't 
be  angry  with  her  either,  and  if  you  brought  the  Sheriff  to 
take  her  back " 

"  I  brought  the  Sheriff !  What  are  you  saying,  you  crazy 
woman  ? " 

"  Then  can't  we  let  her  stay  a  little  longer  ?  It  isn't  every 
day  she  has  the  chance " 

"  She  can  stay  all  night  for  me,  Margret." 

"  That  is  impossible — the  Factor  is  so  frightened.  And 
then   there's   the   Governor " 

"  That's  true,"  said  Anna. 

"  But  she  can  safely  stay  an  hour  more  with  her  chil-d, 
can't  she  ? "  said  Aunt  Margret. 

"  Just  one  hour  more,"  said  Anna. 

"  Poor  thing,  she  was  to  steal  out  while  we  were  talking, 
but  we'll  go  up  and  surprise  her.  And  when  you  see  her 
with  the  little  mite  at  her  breast,  looking  down  at  it  and 
kissing  it,  with  such  a  pitiful  smile,  the  dear,  it  will  fill  your 
heart  brimfuL  But  for  goodness'  sake  wipe  your  eyes  and 
blow  your  nose,  Anna,  and  do  for  mercy's  sake  look  more 
cheerful.  Quietly  now,  quietly,  or  she'll  think  the  Sheriff  is 
behind  us." 

With  that  the  two  old  things,  snuffling  as  if  they  had  colds 
in  the  head,  but  stiaiggling  to  smile  and  seem  happy,  went 
creeping  up   to  the   bedi'oom. 

By  that  time  the  room  was  empty  and  Thora  was  gone. 

The  women  looked  at  each  other  for  an  instant,  and  then 
Aunt  Margret  ran  to  the  cradle.    The  child  was  gone,  too. 

At  that  moment  the  bell  of  the  front  door  rang  again. 
Aunt  Margret  cried,  "  There  she  is,"  and  the  two  women 
raced  down-stairs  to  see. 


THE   PRODIGAL    SON  191 

It  was  Magnus  coining  in. 

"  Thora  has  been  here,  but  she  has  gone — gone  this  very 
minute,"  cried  Anna. 

"  And  she  has  taken  the  child  along  with  her,"  cried  Aunt 
Margret. 

Without  a  word  Magnus  turned  about  and  leapt  back  to 
the  street.  There  he  met  the  Sheriff  and  told  him  what 
had  happened.  At  the  next  minute  the  two  women  were 
running  hither  and  thither  and  the  two  men  were  gone 
different  ways. 

Half  an  hour  afterward  they  met  at  the  Factor's  house 
again.  Thora  and  the  child  had  not  been  found.  They  had 
disappeared  as  utterly  as  if  a  lava  stream  had  swallowed 
them. 

The  women  were  sitting  side  by  side  with  blanched  faces 
and  startled  eyes,  twisting  their  handkerchiefs  into  knots. 

"  The  doctor  was  quite  right  after  all,"  said  Anna.  "  They 
were  all  right,  though  we  thought  them  so  hard  and  cruel. 
The  poor  thing  wanted  to  die — she  told  me  so  herself." 

"  She  told  me  too — she  told  me  this  very  day,"  said  Aunt 
Margret. 

"  Is  there  no  house  in  town  she  was  accustomed  to  go 
to  ?  "  asked  the  Sheriff. 

"  None,"  said  Anna,  and  Aunt  Margret  said,  "  Thora  was 
not  like  that — she  would  never  drink  coffee  or  talk  scandal 
with  any  one." 

"  Let  us  try  again,"  said  Magnus  to  the  Sheriff. 

The  sun  had  set  over  the  fiord  and  the  black  rocks  of  the 
plain  were  dying  out  in  the  dusky  haze  of  evening  when  the 
two  men  returned  to  the  Factor's  for  the  second  time.  Their 
search  had  been  fruitless  and  Magnus's  face  was  white  and 
haggard. 

Anna  and  Aunt  Margret  sat  in  the  parlor  window  stricken 
with  grief,  but  finding  a  certain  satisfaction  in  their  afflic- 
tion from  the  melancholy  glances  of  groups  of  other  women 
who  had  gathered  in  the  street. 

"  I  knew  it  would  be  useless,"  said  Anna.  "  She's  gone, 
poor  dear — I'm  afraid  she's  gone  to  heaven,  poor  darling." 

"  And  taken  the  little  innocent  infant  along  with  her," 
said  Aunt  Margret. 


192  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"Has  anybody  thought  of  going  back  to  Government 
House  ?  "  asked  the  Sheriff. 

"  I  went  there  first,"  said  Magnus. 

''And  to  the  lake?" 

"  I  went  there  next." 

•*'And  the  jetty?" 

"  I  went  to  the  jetty  also.  But  I  don't  believe  Thora  has 
destroyed  herself,"   said  Magnus. 

"  Then  she  has  died  of  exhaustion  by  this  time  and  it's  all 
the  same  in  any  case,"  said  Anna. 

"  She's  in  her  stocking  feet  too — see,"  said  Aunt  Mar- 
gret,  showing  the  slippers  which  Thora  had  left  up-stairs, 
and  falling  to  kissing  and  weeping  over  them. 

"  There's  one  chance  left — she  may  have  tried  to  follow 
her  husband,"  said  Magnus. 

"  So  far,  and  without  a  horse  ?  "  said  the  Sheriff. 

"  It's  the  last  hope — I'm  going  to  follow  it  up,"  said  Mag- 
nus.   "  Mother,"  he  added,  "  you  had  better  go  back  home." 

"  I  can't — I  daren't — and  if  anything  happens  I'll  never 
be  able  to  go  into  the  poor  girl's  room  again,"  said  Anna. 

Outside,  in  the  fading  light,  Magnus  stood  for  a  moment 
wiping  the  flanks  of  Golden  Mane  and  patting  his  drooping 
neck. 

"  1  suppose  there  isn't  another  horse  left  in  the  town," 
said  the  Sheriff,  "  but  you'll  kill  your  splendid  pony." 

"  Then  he'll  die  well,"  said  Magnus. 

"  Magnus,"  the  Sheriff  continued,  "  I  intend  to  search 
every  house  in  Reykjavik,  and  if  I  succeed  to-night  I'll  ex- 
pect you  to  help  us  in  the  morning." 

"  If  you  don't  succeed  I'll  help  you,"  said  Magnus,  with  a 
hoarse  laugh,  and  at  the  next  moment  he  was  lost  in  the 
darkness. 

VI 

Thora  had  done  the  most  natural  and  therefore  the  most 
unexpected  thing.  Only  thinking  of  getting  back  to  her  bed 
in  Government  House,  and  of  carrying  the  child  along  with 
her,  she  had  taken  the  simplest  means  toward  doing  so.  In 
order  to  escape  the  Sheriff  she  had  left  her  father's  house  by 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  193 

the  back,  and  to  avoid  observation  from  people  in  the  fre- 
quented thoroughfare  she  had  taken  the  longer  and  quieter 
of  the  two  roads  home. 

This  road  led  her  past  the  lake,  but  she  had  no  desire  to 
destroy  herself.  Often  before  she  had  longed  for  death  from 
the  depths  of  her  heart,  but  love  for  her  child  conquered 
all  such  feelings  now.  The  way  was  very  long,  but  she  did 
not  know  that  she  was  tired ;  the  roads  were  rough,  but  she 
did  not  feel  that  they  were  cutting  her  feet;  she  was  going 
fast,  but  she  did  not  realize  that  she  was  breathless.  She 
had  only  one  fear — the  fear  of  being  overtaken;  only  one 
dread — the  dread  of  the  child  being  torn  away  from  her. 

Clinging  to  the  little  one  with  feverish  arms  she  hastened 
along,  weeping  to  herself,  laughing  to  herself,  full  of  a  wild 
joy  that  had  no  remorse,  no  qualms  of  any  kind,  and  neither 
looked  before  nor  after.  It  was  motherhood — the  most 
divine,  the  most  devilish,  the  most  tender,  the  most  terrible, 
the  most  sweet,  the  most  sublime,  the  most  savage  of  all  the 
passions  of  the  heart, 

Eeaching  home  at  last  she  found  the  house  silent,  but 
every  room  wide  open,  as  if  lately  ringing  with  the  noise  of 
hurrying  feet.  Creeping  up-stairs  with  her  precious  burden 
she  got  safely  back  to  her  room,  and  instantly  locked  the 
door  behind  her.  She  laughed  as  she  did  so,  thinking  how 
Anna  and  Aunt  Margret  would  follow  her  and  find  them- 
selves defeated. 

Then  she  undressed  and  got  back  into  bed  and  for  one 
long,  heavenly  hour  she  gave  herself  up  to  the  delight  of 
having  her  child — to  hold  it,  to  nurse  it,  to  fondle  it,  to  kiss 
it,  and  to  devour  it  with  all  her  senses.  The  little  creature 
had  slept  during  its  journey  through  the  town,  but  now  it 
awoke,  and  lay  quiet  by  its  mother's  side  while  she  ran  her 
hungry  hands  over  its  tiny  body  and  put  its  clinched  fists 
and  its  feet  one  by  one  into  her  mouth. 

After  a  while  the  child  tired  and  began  to  cry,  where- 
upon Thora  remembered  for  the  first  time  that  she  had  left 
its  feeding-bottle  behind  her.  She  tried  to  hush  it,  but  it 
would  not  be  hushed,  and  then  a  sudden  thought,  a  blind  im- 
pulse of  maternity,  came  to  her,  and  she  put  the  little  one- 
to  her  breast.    The  child  clung  to  it  and  was  quiet,  and  the 


194  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

milk,  which  had  never  come  until  now,  instantly  began  to 
flow. 

It  was  the  crowning  miracle  of  that  joyous  hour,  a  physical 
rapture  such  as  Thora  had  never  known  before. 

After  that  a  more  tender  spirit  stole  over  her,  and  she 
looked  lovingly  down  at  the  child  in  her  bosom  and  kissed  it 
again  and  again,  and  said,  "  God  bless  my  baby." 

Then  in  a  voice  so  weak  and  silvery  that  it  was  like  a 
voice  descending  from  the  sky,  she  began  to  sing  the  child 
to  sleep : 

"  Sleep,  baby,  sleep, 
Angels  bright  thy  slumbers  keep, 
Sleep,  baby,  sleep." 

The  child  slept,  and  even  while  she  sang  Thora  became 
aware  of  alternate  waves  of  heat  and  cold  going  over  her. 
A  vague,  broken,  delirious  consciousness  came  and  went,  and 
people  seemed  to  be  entering  and  leaving  the  room.  First  it 
was  Helga,  then  it  was  Oscar,  and  finally  it  was  Magnus. 
Helga  was  taking  the  child  out  of  the  bed  and  Oscar  was 
helping  her,  and  she  was  trying  to  cry  out  and  could  not, 
when  Magnus  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

At  one  moment  she  thought  she  was  dead,  and  people 
were  talking  around  her.  They  were  all  strangers,  chiefly 
women  whom  she  had  seen  going  into  the  Salvation  Shelter. 
"  She's  gone,  poor  girl,"  said  some  one,  and  somebody  else 
said,  "  So  much  the  better — the  poor  thing's  troubles  are 
over."  "  They  say  she  tried  to  make  away  with  herself," 
said  one.  "And  what  wonder?"  said  another.  "There 
was  no  place  left  for  her  in  this  world."  "  Nobody  can  say 
she  didn't  love  her  husband,"  said  a  voice  at  her  feet.  "  That 
was  the  pity — he  loved  her  sister,"  said  a  voice  above  her. 
"  Perhaps  that  was  why  she  thought  of  taking  her  life — to 
leave  him  free — perhaps  to  make  him  happy  ?  "  "  Well,  she 
did  wrong  by  Magnus,  but  we  all  know  who  killed  her." 
And  then  everybody  said  in  chorus,  "  He'll  get  his  reward, 
he'll  get  his  reward,"  and  she  was  sorry  for  Oscar. 

At  another  moment  she  thought  she  was  a  blessed  saint  in 
paradise,  with  lilies  and  roses  around  her  head,  but  there 
svas  a  thorn  in  her  heart  for  all  that,  and  even  among  the 


THE    PKODIGAL    SON  195 

joys  of  heaven  she  had  a  dull  pain  there  was  no  ease  for, 
because  she  could  not  help  thinking  about  her  baby.  So  she 
asked  the  dear  God  to  let  her  go  down  to  earth  to  see  her 
little  Elin,  and  He  suffered  her  to  come  and  she  came. 
Oscar  and  Helga  were  together  now,  in  a  country  that  was 
sweet  with  smiling  gardens  and  a  house  that  was  full  of 
gilded  furniture.  But  she  could  not  see  her  Elin  anywhere, 
until  at  length  she  found  her  in  an  upper  room,  neglected 
and  lonely.  Then  the  burning  tears  ran  down  her  face  and 
she  sat  by  her  child  and  comforted  her,  and  Elin  was  not 
afraid.  "  Stay  with  me  a  little  longer,"  said  the  child, 
and  she  stayed  with  her  and  sang  to  her,  and  no  one  heard 
but  little  Elin: 

"  Sleep,  baby,  sleep, 
Angels  bright  thy  slumbers  keep, 
Sleep,  baby,  sleep." 

When  she  came  to  herself  again  it  was  dark  in  the  bed- 
room, yet  she  was  still  singing.  The  baby  began  to  cry  and 
she  wished  to  comfort  it,  but  she  found  she  could  not  speak. 
It's  little  body  felt  cold  against  her  breast  and  she  wanted 
to  cover  it  up  in  the  blanket,  but  her  arms  were  heavy  and 
she  could  not  lift  them. 

There  was  a  moment  of  agonized  consciousness,  but  the 
good  Father  sealed  the  senses  of  His  suffering  child  again. 
She  thought  a  majestic  figure  entered  the  room,  clothed  all 
in  white,  and  lifted  the  baby  out  of  her  bosom,  saying, 
"  Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  Me."  She  knew  quite 
well  who  It  was,  but  when  she  looked  a  second  time  the 
figure  had  the  face  of  Magnus. 

Then  it  seemed  to  her  that  it  was  she  herself  and  not  the 
baby  that  had  been  lifted  up,  yet  she  felt  no  fear  at  all,  nor 
any  pain,  nor  any  heartache. 

At  that  moment  the  women  who  had  stood  about  the  bed 
came  back  and  they  began  to  sing,  "  Safe  in  the  arms  of 
Jesus  " — just  as  she  had  heard  them  singing  it  when  she 
listened  at  the  door  of  the  Shelter. 

She  smiled  and  drew  a  deep  sigh;  a  sweet,  long  breath  of 
joy  and  rapture;  and  then  the  darkness  lifted  and — it  was 
day. 


196  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 


vn 


That  day  had  been  a  prolonged  triumph  for  Oscar.  The 
festival  of  the  Proclamation  began  with  service  in  the  parish 
church,  and  though  the  Governor  and  the  Thingmen  only 
had  been  able  to  pack  into  the  little  place,  the  churchyard 
outside  and  the  home-field  of  the  parsonage  had  been 
thronged. 

Aft€r  the  service  there  was  a  procession  from  the  church 
door  to  the  ancient  place  of  proclamation,  and  Oscar  had 
ordered  and  marshaled  every  one.  First  the  town  band, 
then  the  Governor  and  his  executive  in  their  gold-braided 
uniforms,  the  Bishop  in  his  robes,  the  Thingmen  in  their 
scarfs,  the  clergy  in  their  black  cassocks  and  white  ruffs, 
and  finally  a  vast  following  of  the  people.  It  was  a  gorgeous 
spectacle,  such  as  no  man  could  remember  to  have  seen  on 
that  spot  before. 

The  Proclamation  itself  was  an  imposing  ceremony.  Sit- 
ting on  the  law-mount  as  on  a  natural  platform  of  lava  rock, 
with  his  face  to  the  east  and  the  Cross  of  Dannebrog  on  his 
breast,  the  Governor  read  out  one  hy  one  the  titles  and 
descriptions  of  the  Acts  which  had  been  passed  by  Parlia- 
ment ;  and  after  each  of  them  he  lifted  his  head  and  cried  to 
the  people  on  the  plains  below,  "  Is  it  Yea  or  Nay  ? "  And 
then  the  jjeople,  led  by  Oscar,  shouted  "  Yea." 

When  the  reading  was  finished  the  Governor  cried,  "  Long 
live  the  King,"  whereupon  Oscar  led  the  cheering,  three 
times  three,  and  when  the  band  struck  up  the  national  hymn 
he  started  the  words  of  the  chorus. 

But  the  last  feature  of  the  function  was  the  best,  and 
that  was  the  singing  of  the  hymn  composed  by  Oscar  him- 
self. It  was  a  hymn  to  Iceland,  the  cradle  of  the  Vikings,  the 
scene  of  the  Sagas,  the  parent  of  parliaments,  the  mother  of 
the  mighty  Northlands. 

Standing  under  the  brant  face  of  the  law-mount  with  his 
choir  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  on  the  sloping  ground  in 
front,  Oscar  conducted  with  great  vigor.  His  prelude  pleased 
the  people,  but  when  he  rose  to  the  height  of  his  argument 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  197 

and  struck  the  patriotic  note,  his  love  for  the  stem  old 
Northland — 

"  Isafold !     My  Isafold !     Great  land  of  frost  and  fire," 

his  hearers  were  carried  away  and  some  of  them  shouted  and 
wept. 

After  the  hymn  was  over  the  Thingmen  crowded  about 
Oscar  to  congratulate  him  and  some  of  the  country-people 
fell  upon  his  neck.  The  Governor,  too,  sitting  above,  was  the 
object  of  many  congratulations.  "  But  this  is  genius,"  said 
one.  "  An  inspiration,"  said  another.  "  Our  Oscar  will  be 
a  great  musician  some  day,"  said  a  third.  And  the  old  man 
took  the  tributes  quietly,  almost  silently,  but  with  the  shin- 
ing face  of  a  father  proud  of  his  favorite  son. 

When  the  ceremonies  ended  only  one  name  was  on  every- 
body's lips,  and  that  was  the  name  of  Oscar  Stephenson, 
and  hundreds  hummed  the  strains  of  "  Isafold !  My  Isa- 
fold !  "  as  they  trooped  off  to  dinner. 

Oscar  and  Helga  dined  together  at  the  Inn-farm  in  a  cor- 
ner of  the  hall  which  was  thronged  with  guests.  But  they 
were  both  too  much  excited  to  remain  in  mixed  company, 
and  after  dinner  they  escaped  to  the  margin  of  the  lake  and 
to  the  solitary  parts  of  the  plain.  There  they  gathered 
blueberries  and,  partly  to  restrain  their  excitement  and 
partly  to  nourish  it,  they  talked  of  nothing  but  the  wild 
flowers. 

When  the  sun  began  to  sink  they  returned  by  way  of  the 
parsonage,  where  the  Governor,  with  the  Factor,  the  Bishop 
and  certain  other  officials  had  taken  their  dinner  apart.  The 
little  guest  room  was  dense  with  smoke,  like  the  mouth  of 
a  geyser,  and  the  faces  that  came  and  went  in  it  were  dis- 
cussing the  merits  and  defects  of  the  old  order  and  the  new. 
Both  Governor  and  Factor  were  for  the  old,  as  exemplified  by 
the  day's  ceremony  and  Oscar's  hymn,  but  others  held  that 
changing  times  brought  changing  needs  and  that  Iceland 
would  be  the  better  for  a  new  constitution,  with  Free  Trade 
and  modem  methods. 

"  They'll  go  on  till  midnight  and  never  get  home  to- 
night," whispered  Helga,  as  she  slipped  out  with  Oscar. 

On  returning  to  the  farm  they  found  people  striking  tents 


198  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

and  leading  horses  from  the  crowded  horsefold  to  prepare 
for  the  return  journey. 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  too  tired  to  go  back  to-night,"  said  Helga. 

"  Then  stay — stay  by  all  means,"  said  Oscar. 

"  And  you  ?  "  asked  Helga. 

"  I  must  go  home  in  any  case — there's  Thora,"  said  Oscar. 

"  Your  mother  will  look  after  her,"  said  Helga. 

But  Oscar  shook  his  head,  and  ordered  Gudrun,  the  house- 
keeper, to  make  one  of  the  two  guest-rooms  ready  for  Helga. 

At  that  moment  some  young  townspeople  were  clearing 
the  floor  for  a  dance  and  they  called  on  Oscar  and  Helga  to 
lead  off  with  a  waltz.  They  did  so  with  great  delight,  and 
when  the  waltz  w^as  finished  they  joined  the  round  dance 
which  followed  it,  and  then  they  danced  a  second  and  a  third 
waltz,  until  they  were  flushed  and  hot  and  had  to  go  out 
to  cool. 

By  this  time  it  was  dark,  and  the  people  who  meant  to 
encamp  for  the  night  had  lighted  fires  at  the  mouths  of  their 
tents  and  were  beguiling  the  hours  with  various  pleasures. 
One  of  these  was  fortune-telling.  An  old  woman,  not  thought 
to  be  overwise,  was  going  from  tent  to  tent,  making  random 
shots  amid  shrieks  of  laughter. 

"  And  what  do  you  see  here  ? "  said  Helga,  holding  out 
her  hand. 

"  Ah,  this  is  a  good  hand,"  said  the  witch.  "  You  are  go- 
ing to  be  a  great  lady  and  eat  mutton  and  beef  every  day 
and  drink  golden  wine  and  ginger." 

"  And  what  do  you  see  in  this  ? "  asked  Oscar. 

"  This?    Oh,  dear!     Oh,  dear!  "  said  the  witch. 

"  What's  amiss,  mother  ?  " 

"  Cold  water  runs  between  my  skin  and  my  flesh." 

"  Is  it  as  bad  as  that,  old  lady  ?  " 

"  Don't  ask  me — don't  ask  me !  You  have  a  brother, 
haven't  you  ? " 

"  And  if  I  have,  what  about  him  ?  " 

"  Beware — beware !  "  said  the  witch,  and  Oscar  and  Helga 
turned  away  laughing. 

The  moon  rose  and  they  wandered  into  the  great  chasm, 
and  walked  among  the  shadows  of  the  toppling  stones,  until 
they  came  under  a  huge  stone  called  Stoker,  which  stands 


THE    TRODIGAL    SON  199 

like  a  mig'lity  gravestone  over  a  deep  pit  that  is  like  a  tomb. 
There  they  sat,  with  the  white  moon  above  and  the  red 
camp  fires  below  them,  and  then  the  boiling,  bubbling  geyser 
of  excitement  in  their  breasts  could  be  kept  down  no 
longer. 

"  You  have  had  a  great  success  to-day,  Oscar,"  said  Helga. 

"  So  have  you,  Helga,  so  have  you,  for  without  your  pres- 
ence to  prompt  and  inspire  me  I  should  have  done  nothing." 

"  I  am  happy  if  I  have  helped  you,  Oscar,  but  you  must  go 
on  now,  and  never  look  back — never." 

"  You  are  right,  Helga,  you  are  right — to  stop  would  be 
a  sin — an  unpardonable  sin — almost  like  a  sin  against  the 
Holy  Ghost." 

"  Exactly  like  it,  Oscar,  for  if  any  one  has  a  gift  he  gets 
it  from  God,  and  to  bury  it,  like  the  man  in  the  parable " 

"  There  would  be  no  fear  of  that  if  I  could  have  you  be- 
side me  always,  Helga." 

"  And  can't  you,  Oscar  ?  " 

A  fragrance  seemed  to  envelop  him.  He  felt  Helga's 
breath  upon  his  face.     It  made  him  tremble  all  over. 

"  Would  to  God  I  could,  but  it  is  impossible.  You  will 
return  to  Denmark " 

"  Not  I,  indeed !  I  am  not  without  my  own  ambitions  also. 
I  must  go  back  to  England,  to  France,  to  Germany,  to  Italy. 
And  so  must  you,  Oscar — you  must,  if  you  are  to  be  true  to 
your  talents  and  to  yourself  and  to  the  great  future " 

"  I  know  it,  Helga,  I  feel  it,  and  if  I  could  write  even  one 
song  that  would  stir  the  souls  of  millions  it  would  be  better 
than  making  a  fortune  or  passing  an  act  of  parliament.  But 
when  a  man  has  given  hostages  to  fortune,  and  they  are 
dragging  him  down — with  silken  threads,  perhaps — but  still 
down,  down,  down " 

He  was  speaking  out  of  a  dry  and  husky  throat,  but  she 
answered  softly  and  sweetly,  "Are  things  so  absolutely 
irretrievable,  Oscar  ? " 

"  Absolutely,  Helga,  absolutely ;  and  henceforth  and  all  my 
life  long  I  must  learn  to  go  without  your  comradeship " 

"  And  what  must  I  do  ?  " 

The  compulsion  of  passion  was  driving  him  on,  but  he  was 
struggling  to  hold  back.    "  Helga,"  he  cried,  "  do  you  know 


200  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

•what  is  the  deadliest  tiling  in  life?  It  is  Love.  The  painters 
paint  Love  as  a  harmless  little  Cupid,  with  a  handkerchief 
about  his  eyes  and  a  tiny  bow  and  arrow  in  his  hands.  But 
Love  is  a  great,  blind,  blundering  monster  with  a  two-edged 
sword,  dealing  destruction  on  every  side." 

His  words  were  as  nothing,  but  his  quivering  voice  sang 
like  music  in  Helga's  ears,  and  she  said,  "  Is  it  Love  or  man 
that  does  that,  Oscar — man  with  the  false  sense  of  right  and 
wrong,  his  foolish  ideals  of  honor  ?  " 

"  God  knows !  Perhaps  if  I  could  have  thought  so  a  year 
ago,  before  I  added  injury  to  injury  and  brought  unhappi- 
ness  on  others — but  now — now " 

A  sensation  of  triumph  came  to  her  and  she  said,  "  Isn't 
it  cowardly  to  talk  like  that,  Oscar?  " 

"  I  am  a  coward,  Helga,"  he  answered,  trembling  from 
head  to  foot ;  "  to  you  I  can  speak  the  truth — I  am  a  coward, 
a  moral  coward,  and  I  can  not  face  the  certainty " 

"But  if,"  said  Helga  excitedly,  getting  closer,  "you  had 
some  one  beside  you  who  had  the  courage  of  life,  the  defiance 
of  life " 

"  Helga ! "  cried  Oscar,  breathing  heavily — the  earth 
seemed  to  be  slipping  under  him  like  an  avalanche. 

"  Some  one  who  would  go  on  helping  you,  and  ask  nothing 
but  your  comradeship " 

"  Helga !  Helga !  "  He  was  gasping  as  for  breath  in  the 
intoxication  of  his  emotion. 

"  Nothing  but  to  work  with  you  and  to  conquer  the  world 
with  you " 

"Helga!    Helga!     Helga!"  •        | 

"Oscar!" 

There  was  a  breathless  cry  from  both,  and  then  an  almost 
inaudible  whisper,  "  I  shall  not  go  back  to-night,  Helga." 


When  they  came  to  themselves  again  they  were  returning 
• — more  flushed  and  excited  than  before — out  of  the  white 
moonlight  into  the  yellow  mist  of  the  smoking  lamp  that 
hung  over  the  dancers  in  the  hall.  The  young  townspeople 
receivtsd  them  with  a  shout  and  called  on  them  to  join  the 
dance  they  were  dancing.  It  was  called  "  Weaving  the 
Cloth,"  and  the  figures  were  intended  to  represent  the  spin- 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  201 

ning  and  carding,  the  weaving,  stretching,  hammering  and 
rolling  of  the  thick  Icelandic  Vadmal. 

The  dancers  crossed  and  recrossed,  twisted  each  other 
about,  beat  each  other  breast  against  breast,  and  finally 
rolled  each  other  round  and  round. 

The  music  was  going  fast,  and  the  dancers  were  singing 
loud  and  laughing  louder,  when  there  came  from  outside  the 
sudden  barking  of  dogs,  followed  by  the  clatter  of  the  hoofs 
of  a  galloping  horse.  Immediately  afterward  there  was  the 
rattle  of  the  metal  end  of  a  riding-whip  against  a  window- 
pane,  and  a  voice  crying,  "  God  be  with  you !  " 

The  newcomer  did  not  wait  for  the  customary  answer  to 
his  salutation,  but  pushed  the  door  open  and  entered  hur- 
riedly. It  was  Magnus,  dusty  and  dirty,  with  a  white  face 
and  wild  eyes. 

At  that  moment  Oscar  and  Helga,  blushing  and  smiling, 
were  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  locked  in  each  other's  arms, 
performing  the  last  figure  of  the  dance,  and  it  was  thus  that 
Magnus  came  face  to  face  with  them. 

"  Is  she  here  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  She  ? " 

"  Thora !  She  is  lost — I  thought  she  might  have  found  a 
horse  and  followed  you." 

Then  the  shufiling  feet  stopped,  and  the  fiddles  tailed  off 
into  silence  as  Magnus,  in  broken  sentences,  told  the  story  of 
Thora's  flight  to  the  Factor's,  her  disappearance  with  the 
child,  and  the  vain  search  that  had  been  made  for  her. 

"  But  surely  she  would  go  back  to  Government  House 
eventually,"  said  Oscar.  "  The  poor  girl  would  go  the  long 
way  round  to  escape  observation  and  home  by  way  of  the 
lake.  Did  nobody  think  of  that,  and  stay  in  the  house  to 
see?" 

Magnus  looked  like  a  man  whose  eyes,  dulled  by  groping 
in  a  dark  tunnel,  had  been  stunned  by  sudden  light.  Before 
the  others  had  recovered  themselves  he  had  turned  about 
and  was  gone. 

At  the  next  moment  Oscar  was  tramping  to  and  fro  on 
the  floor,  with  his  clinched  fists  to  his  forehead,  moaning, 
*'  My  God !    My  God !  "    Helga  was  combing  her  hair  and 
putting  on  her  wraps. 
14 


202  THE    PKODIGAL    SON 


vm 


John,  the  servant  at  the  farm,  was  sent  over  to  the  par- 
sonage to  tell  the  Governor  and  the  Factor.  He  found  the 
gentlemen  settling  themselves  for  the  night,  having  talked  so 
long  that  they  had  decided  to  remain  until  morning.  But 
the  news  of  Thora's  disappearance  altered  everything. 

"  We  must  go  back  immediately,"  said  the  Governor. 

"  Bring  the  horses  round  instantly,"  said  the  Factor. 

Less  than  half  an  hour  aftenvard  a  silent  and  gloomy  com- 
pany were  going  home — the  Governor,  the  Factor,  Oscar, 
Helga,  and  a  various  following  of  the  sympathetic  and  the 
inquisitive. 

The  two  old  friends  were  morose  and  ill-tempered,  and  for 
the  first  time  in  fifty  years  disposed  to  nag  and  quarrel. 
The  Governor  blamed  Aunt  Margret,  the  Factor  blamed 
Anna ;  the  Governor  blamed  Helga,  the  Factor  blamed  Oscar; 
the  Governor  blamed  the  Factor,  and  the  Factor  blamed  the 
Governor.  In  the  half  light  of  uncertainty  and  suspense 
their  friendship  fell  before  fear,  and  blood  was  thicker  than 
water. 

It  was  a  miserable  home-going  to  Oscar.  The  explanation 
of  Thora's  movements  with  which  he  had  surprised  Magnus 
soon  ceased  to  satisfy  himself  and  he  thought  of  a  hundred 
fatal  consequences.  Helga  tried  to  comfort  him  with  various 
plausible  arguments.  He  had  acted  for  the  best — the  best 
for  Thora,  the  best  for  the  child,  the  best  for  himself,  the 
best  for  everybody — and  if  accident  had  intervened  or  the 
dreadful  freaks  of  dementia  had  followed,  he  was  not  re- 
sponsible and  could  not  be  blamed. 

But  Oscar's  worst  sufferings  were  from  a  secret  purgatory 
which  Helga's  pleadings  did  not  touch,  for  the  crudest  part 
of  his  remorse  concerned  Helga  herself. 

The  journey  was  long  and  tiresome  and  every  step  had  its 
own  peculiar  misery.  During  the  first  hour  the  moon  was 
shining — a  brilliant  moon  that  bathed  everything  in  loveli- 
ness— and  Oscar  remembered  the  scene  in  the  chasm  and  re- 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  203 

fleeted  that  in  the  very  hour  of  his  delirious  happiness  Thora, 
perhaps,  was  lying  dead. 

Then  the  moon  died  out  and  darkness  fell — a  murky  dark- 
ness, blacker  than  the  lava — and  as  Oscar  pushed  and 
plunged  along  over  the  stumbles  of  his  pony,  the  thought 
came  to  him  that  if  Thora  were  dead  perhaps  it  was  the 
best  that  could  have  happened  to  her — the  best  under  the 
circumstances — saving  her  from  the  bitterness  of  a  future 
which  must  surely  come  when  Helga  and  he,  struggle  as 
they  might,  would  have  to  break  the  bonds  that  bound  them. 

And  then  in  that  dark  and  treacherous  hour,  with  no  face 
to  look  into  his  face,  he  felt  an  immense  relief,  remember- 
ing that  if  Thora  was  gone,  the  consequences  of  his  life's 
error  were  at  an  end  and  he  was  free. 

But  the  dawn  came — a  bleared,  rainy  dawn,  with  scarfs  of 
vapor  stretching  across  the  sun  like  a  cataract  over  a  blood- 
shot eye — and  Oscar's  remorse  was  doubled  by  the  wounds  he 
had  inflicted  upon  his  conscience  in  the  darkness,  and  he 
dare  not  look  at  Helga  as  she  rode,  muffled  up  and  silent, 
by  his  side. 

They  were  crossing  the  Moss  Fell  Heath  by  this  time,  and 
everything  around  was  dark  and  drear.  A  solitary  raven 
kept  them  cheerless  company  for  a  while,  flying  from  beacon 
to  beacon  and  uttering  its  husky  cry.  Oscar  remembered  the 
scenes  of  yesterday  when  the  sky  was  blue,  and  their  blood 
was  warm,  and  then  the  thought  came  to  him — like  the  shoot- 
ing of  the  bolt  on  a  man  buried  in  a  tomb — that  if  he  was 
not  to  be  henceforward  the  most  miserable  of  men  he  must 
pray  with  all  his  soul  and  strength  that  when  they  reached 
the  end  of  their  journey  Thora  should  be  alive. 

On  reaching  the  more  inhabited  districts  Oscar  allowed 
the  Governor  and  the  Factor  to  forge  on  ahead,  and  Helga 
to  wait  for  him  in  the  road,  while  he  glanced  off  to  the 
farmhouses  and  shouted  up  at  the  bedroom  windows.  But 
the  result  was  always  the  same — Thora  had  not  been  seen 
and  Magnus  had  been  there  before  him. 

When  they  came  to  the  top  of  the  hill  from  which  they 
had  looked  back  on  Reykjavik  and  on  the  Danish  mail- 
steamer  entering  the  fiord,  the  little  capital  floated  in  the 
mist  of  morning  like  a  city  in  a  woolly  sea,  and  the  "  Laura  " 


204  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

lay  anchored  outside  of  it;  but  the  apprehensions  of  yester- 
day were  consumed  by  the  fears  of  to-day,  and  Oscar  thought 
of  one  thing  alone. 

They  met  farmers  trotting  out  of  the  town  on  their  little 
caravans  of  ponies,  yet  Oscar  did  not  question  them,  lest  he 
should  hear  the  news  he  dare  not  listen  to,  and  coming  at 
length  to  the  long  street  of  the  little  capital,  he  did  not 
raise  his  face  to  the  eyes  that  peered  at  him  through  the  cur- 
tains of  upper  windows,  lest  they  should  reveal  the  truth  he 
dared  not  learn. 

The  fear  of  disaster  had  by  this  time  swallowed  up  any 
flicker  of  hope  in  Oscar,  and  when,  coming  up  to  Govern- 
ment House,  he  found  a  crowd  of  people  standing  in  front 
of  it,  he  knew  too  well  that  all  was  over.  From  that  moment 
onward  fact  after  fact  led  up  to  the  fatal  certainty. 

The  window  of  Thora's  bedroom — the  window  at  which 
Oscar  had  shouted  his  adieus  the  day  before — stood  open, 
and  a  ladder  had  been  raised  against  it.  By  the  gate  to  the 
green  a  horse  lay  dead  on  the  gravel — it  was  Magnus's  horse, 
his  magnificent  Golden  Mane — covered  with  dust  and  sweat, 
as  it  fell  under  its  rider  at  the  last  step  of  his  fearful 
journey. 

In  the  middle  of  the  hall  Anna  and  Aunt  Margret  stood 
with  the  Governor  and  the  Factor,  sobbing  out  their  pitiful 
explanations.  Afraid  to  return  to  the  empty  house  which 
had  been  the  scene  of  a  painful  memory,  Anna  had  sat  the 
night  through  with  Margret  at  the  Factor's,  waiting  hour 
after  hour  for  the  reports  of  the  Sheriff  and  his  constables. 
Nothing  had  been  heard  of  Thora,  but  in  the  early  morning 
Magnus  had  returned  and  found  the  door  of  her  room 
locked  on  the  inside.  Then  he  had  run  for  them  and  they 
had  called  to  Thora,  but  received  no  answer,  though  some- 
times they  heard  the  baby  crying.  And  now  Magnus,  having 
failed  to  force  the  door,  had  gone  for  a  ladder,  and  he  in- 
tended to  climb  into  the  room  from  the  outside. 

Oscar  was  conscious  of  no  more  until  he  found  himself 
knocking  at  Thora's  door  and  calling  in  his  agony : 

"Thora!   Thora!    Thora!" 

There  was  a  heavj',  staggering  step  inside  the  room;  the 
lock  was  tlirust  back  and  the  door  thrown  open. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  205 

"  Thora ! "  cried  Oscar  again,  but  it  was  Magnus  who 
stood  before  him — Magnus  with  a  face  white  and  set  and  full 
of  anger  and  hatred. 

"  You  were  right,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  bed.  "  There 
she  is  with  God — and  you !  " 

Thora  lay  high  on  the  pillow,  with  her  eyes  open  and  her 
parted  lips  smiling,  as  if  she  had  just  awakened  from  a 
beautiful  dream.  She  was  dead,  but  her  baby  was  alive,  and 
it  was  rolling  its  little  round  head  and  digging  its  red  hand 
into  her  cold,  white  breast. 

With  a  low,  choking  cry,  Oscar  fell  to  his  knees  at  the  bed- 
side and  buried  his  face  in  the  bedclothes.  Magnus  left  the 
room,  the  others  entered  it,  and  Aunt  Margret  lifted  the  liv- 
ing child  out  of  the  mother's  breast  over  the  father's  kneel- 
ing form. 

IX 

During  the  few  days  before  the  funeral  the  Government 
House  felt  motionless  and  empty,  like  a  room  when  the  clock 
has  stopped  in  it.  Behind  the  drawn  blinds  everybody  talked 
in  whispers,  as  if  the  dead  were  asleep  and  must  not  be 
wakened.  The  stillness  of  the  house  centered  in  the  room 
where  Thora  lay,  and  that  was  white  and  fresh  with  the  odor 
of  clean  linen  and  wild  flowers.  In  the  deadened  sunshine, 
as  it  filtered  through  the  yellow  blinds,  there  was  a  halo 
about  the  waxen  face  on  the  bed,  and  it  seemed  to  diffuse 
solemnity  on  all  around  it. 

Anna  never  allowed  herself  to  be  long  away  from  this 
chamber.  Her  fear  of  the  room  had  gone,  now  that  death 
had  entered  it.  Early  and  late,  in  daylight  and  dark,  she 
went  to  and  fro  in  the  silent  place,  walking  softly  and  seem- 
ing to  count  the  hours  during  which  her  dear  girl  would  be 
above  ground. 

The  Governor  did  nothing  from  the  day  of  Thora's  death 
until  the  day  of  her  burial.  Dressed  always  in  his  official 
uniform  he  sat  in  his  bureau,  but  received  no  one.  He 
wrote  no  letters  and  read  no  books  and  seldom  spoke  at  his 
meals.  For  hours  together  he  would  sit  with  folded  arms 
looking  fixedly  at  the  pattern  on  the  carpet.    A  shadow  had 


206  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

fallen  on  him — a  shadow  of  shame — and  in  the  sealed  cham- 
ber of  his  proud  soul  he  was  struj^gling  to  reconcile  his 
conduct  to  himself  and  finding  it  difficult  to  do  so. 

The  Factor  went  on  with  his  work  as  usual,  for  in  the 
decalogue  of  his  duty  there  was  no  maxim  that  forbade 
business,  but  sometimes  as  he  turned  the  leaves  of  his  ledger 
he  looked  long  and  saw  nothing,  and  once,  as  he  counted  up 
the  figures  in  his  bank-book,  the  thought  smote  him  with 
the  force  of  a  blow  on  the  brain  that  perhaps  Nature  was 
beginning  to  strike  a  balance  with  him  against  the  sum  of  his 
successors,  and  that  the  cruel  bereavement  which  had  just 
befallen  him  was  the  first  stroke  of  the  Nemesis  which  was 
to  follow  in  the  wake  of  his  wealth. 

Aunt  Margret  and  Helga  were  always  at  home,  the  one 
busy  with  the  baby,  which  had  been  taken  back  to  the  Fac- 
tor's, and  the  other  -with,  the  "  black "  which  had  to  be 
ordered  for  everybody. 

Little  was  kno^vn  of  Magnus,  except  that  he  was  still  in 
towm,  that  he  had  been  seen  with  the  Sheriff  and  two  stran- 
gers, that  in  spite  of  the  trouble  which  had  overtaken  his 
family  he  was  spending  most  of  his  time  in  the  dark 
smoking-room  of  the  Hotel,  and  that  he  was  said  to  be  drink- 
ing heavily. 

But  the  grief  of  Oscar  touched  and  satisfied  everybody. 
He  had  eaten  little  and  had  never  been  known  to  sleep. 
Sometimes  he  was  seen  to  be  sitting  apart  and  weeping 
silently;  sometimes  he  was  moving  from  room  to  room,  as 
if  every  spot  on  which  his  eye  could  rest  was  charged  with 
the  memoiy  of  happy  days  that  were  dead;  sometimes  he 
was  heard  in  the  white  room  in  which  Thora  lay — the  room 
in  which  she  had  been  so  merry  and  so  sad,  so  wild  with 
delirium  and  so  happy  with  her  baby — and  there  he  was 
sobbing  out  his  wild  regrets  in  muflSed  cries  of  "  Forgive  me  I 
Forgive  me !  "  Once  in  the  middle  of  the  night  he  was 
heard  at  the  harmonium  in  the  room  below  the  death  cham- 
ber, playing  softly  a  pitiful  lament  which  awakened  his 
father  and  mother  and  brought  the  salt  tears  to  their  eyes. 

The  desolate  soul  in  these  ghastly  hours  was  prostrating 
itself  in  the  dust.  Death  strikes  sternly,  and  Oscar  in  his 
penitence  was  accusing  himself  of  every  crime.     He  had 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  207 

killed  Thora — not  her  body  only,  but  her  heart,  that  faithful 
heart  which  had  loved  him  so  deeply,  so  tenderly,  so 
passionately. 

In  this  conscience-stricken  condition  he  looked  back  on 
the  path  of  his  life  with  Thora,  and  every  step  as  he  now  saw 
it  seemed  to  be  thick  set  with  the  stubble  of  sin  and  rank 
with  the  weeds  of  self-deception.  When  he  returned  from 
England  he  had  taken  Thora  from  Magnus,  although  he  did 
not  love  her.  It  was  true  he  had  thought  he  loved  her,  but 
the  brotherly  thing  would  have  been  to  stand  back  in  silence, 
and  if  he  had  only  done  so  Time  itself  would  have  unde- 
ceived him. 

That  was  the  first  of  his  offenses,  and  the  next  was  no 
less  hideous.  When,  being  betrothed  to  Thora,  he  awoke  to 
the  certainty  that  his  heart  was  with  Helga,  he  had  gone 
on  with  his  bargain  and  led  the  girl  who  loved  him  into  a 
loveless  marriage.  It  was  true  he  thought  he  was  doing  his 
duty,  but  behind  duty  was  fear,  fear  of  the  world  and  fear 
of  Magnus,  while  the  courageous  thing,  the  manly  thing, 
even  the  merciful  thing  would  have  been  to  stop  at  the 
church  door,  if  need  be,  and  face  the  facts  and  take  the 
consequences. 

But  having  cheated  Thora  of  her  love  and  lied  to  her  at 
the  altar,  he  had  crowned  the  sum  of  his  sins  by  exposing 
himself  to  the  temptation  of  infidelity.  It  was  true  that 
Thora  herself,  in  her  innocent  affection,  had  paved  the  way 
to  this  temptation;  true,  too,  that  his  marriage  had  been  an 
imperfect  partnership ;  but  all  the  same  his  course  had  been 
clear  and  he  should  have  cut  himself  off  from  Helga  at  once 
and  for  ever.  That  he  had  not  done  so,  that  he  had  paltered 
with  temptation  was  the  last  cause  of  this  terrible  calamity. 
Thora  had  died  because  her  heart  was  dead,  and  he  himself 
had  killed  it. 

Thus  the  desolate  soul  of  the  unhappy  man  laid  down  its 
faults  at  the  feet  of  God,  hiding  nothing,  palliating  nothing, 
and  seeing  everything  in  naked  light.  If  to  be  sorry  for 
having  sinned  is  to  be  innocent,  Oscar  had  ceased  to  be 
guilty  in  his  pitiful,  but  useless,  sorrow.  In  the  dizzy  hours 
of  pain  and  shame,  when  the  wheel  of  life  goes  rapidly,  Oscar 
asked  himself  how  it  had  fcome  to  pass  that  Thora  was  dead, 


208  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

and  something  whispered  "  Helga,"  and  again  and  yet  again 
something  whispered  "  Helga,"  but  his  heart  would  not 
listen  to  that  excuse.  Helga  had  not  been  to  blame.  He 
alone  had  been  at  fault.  He  had  sacrificed  Thora  to  his  am- 
bitious dreams — his  dreams  of  greatness,  of  glory.  Helga 
had  been  merely  the  sjTnbol  of  those  dreams,  and  Thora  was 
dead  because  he  had  tried  to  become  a  great  musician. 

But  the  past  was  past,  and  when  Oscar  asked  himself 
what  punishment  he  could  impose  upon  himself  for  the  fu- 
ture, he  heard  but  one  answer.  If  his  ambitions  had  been  the 
cause  of  his  sin,  to  bury  them  would  be  the  true  expression 
of  his  repentance.  He  would  bury  them.  He  would  bury 
his  genius  and  the  expectation  of  becoming  a  composer  in 
the  grave  of  the  sweet  girl  he  had  destroyed,  and  go  through 
the  rest  of  his  life  in  the  drudgery  of  the  nearest  duty,  eating 
the  bread  of  afiiiction  in  obscurity  and  remorse. 

When  Oscar  first  attempted  to  carry  out  this  resolution,  it 
was  in  a  scene  of  such  tragic  beauty  that  no  one  who  wit- 
nessed it  could  ever  afterward  wipe  it  out  of  mind.  The 
family  had  gathered  for  that  last  ofllce  of  love,  which  makes 
perhaps  the  saddest  moment  of  human  experience — sadder 
than  the  moment  of  turning  away  from  the  newly  covered 
grave,  sadder  even  that  the  moment  of  returning  to  the 
void  and  empty  home — the  moment  when  the  cofiin-lid  is 
closed  down  and  the  beloved  face  disappears  for  ever. 

The  death  chamber  was  the  same  that  in  a  better  time  had 
been  the  bridal  chamber,  but  the  air  which  had  tingled  with 
all  exquisite  thoughts  of  life  was  now  heavy  with  the  hush 
of  death.  It  was  night-time  and  the  same  lamp  burned  under 
the  same  shade,  while  a  gilt-edged  prayer-book  lay  in  a 
circle  of  lighted  candles  on  the  little  table  that  stood  by  the 
bed.  Besides  the  members  of  the  family,  only  two  persons 
were  present — one  of  the  sewing-maids,  who  had  made  the 
wedding-dress  for  the  cathedral,  and  had  just  put  the  last 
stitch  to  the  garment  intended  for  a  darker  house,  and  a 
joiner  in  his  shirt-sleeves. 

One  by  one  the  family  approached  the  bed  to  take  their 
last  look  at  the  burden  that  lay  on  it — the  Governor  with  a 
solemn  tread,  as  if  he  had  been  approaching  the  presence 
of  a  king,  the  Factor  with  rigid  strides  and  a  bewildered 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  209 

stare,  and  Helga  with  a  nervous  step  and  a  furtive  glance,  as 
if  duty  had  called  her  and  she  wished  herself  away.  But 
Anna  and  Aunt  Margret  moved  about  the  body  without 
dread  or  ceremony,  laying  flowers  on  the  bosom  and  smooth- 
ing the  soft  hair  that  was  dressed  down  the  cheek,  as  if  the 
dear  dead  belonged  to  them  by  right  of  nature,  and  they 
would  give  it  up  to  no  one  until  Earth  herself,  the  mother  of 
us  all,  should  claim  it  for  her  own. 

The  man  in  the  shirt-sleeves  had  stepped  forward  to  finish 
his  task  when  the  Governor  held  up  his  hand. 

"Wait!  Where  is  Oscar? "  he  asked,  and  then  Maria,  the 
old  housemaid,  who  had  been  weeping  noiselessly  outside  the 
door,  was  sent  to  fetch  him. 

While  Maria  was  away,  Aunt  Margret  went  up  to  Thora 
and  whispered  over  her : 

"  My  precious,  precious  pet !  You  never  changed  to  your 
stupid  old  auntie,  did  you? — not  even  when  she  kept  your 
dear  baby  away  from  you  and  your  sweet  heart  was  broken ! 
Don't  think  she  didn't  love  you  for  all  that,  my  precious. 
She  loved  you  every  minute,  my  own.  And  now  that  she 
has  got  your  baby  she  intends  to  keep  it.  She  will  keep  it 
as  long  as  she  lives,  so  don't  you  ever  be  troubled  about 
that,  Thora.  Aunt  Margret  is  going  to  be  a  mother  to  your 
little  girl,  and  nobody  in  the  world  shall  ever  touch  a  hair 
of  your  darling's  head." 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Oscar  entered  the  room, 
with  old  Maria  creeping  up  behind  him.  His  pale  cheeks  and 
sunken  eyes  testified  to  the  strength  of  his  remorse,  but  his 
step  was  firm  and  his  whole  figure  showed  intense  vitality  of 
will.  He  carried  a  bundle  of  papers  in  one  hand,  and  they 
were  loose  and  irregular,  as  if  they  had  been  snatched  up 
hurriedly  at  the  moment  he  was  called.  In  the  utter  absorp- 
tion of  his  mood  he  seemed  to  be  \uiconscious  of  anybody 
or  anything  in  the  room  except  one  thing — the  thing  that 
lay  upon  the  bed — and  walking  up  to  it  he  looked  down  at 
the  white  face  and  spoke  to  it  as  if  the  dead — and  the  dead 
alone — could  hear. 

"  Thora,"  he  said  in  a  calm  voice,  "  these  are  the  only 
copies  of  my  compositions,  and  I  wish  you  to  take  them 
with  you.    They  were  written  in  hours  when  your  faithful 


210  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

heart  was  suffering  through  my  fault — when  I  neglected  you 
and  deserted  you  for  the  sake  of  my  foolish  visions  of  art 
and  greatness.  That  was  the  real  cause  of  your  death, 
Thora,  and  in  punishment  of  myself  for  sacrificing  your 
sweet  life  to  my  selfish  dreams,  I  wish  to  burj'  the  fruits 
of  them  in  your  grave.  Take  them,  then,  and  let  them  lie 
with  you  and  fade  with  you  and  be  forgotten.  I  will  never 
write  another  note  of  music  as  long  as  I  live,  and  from  this 
hour  onward  my  ambitions  are  at  an  end." 

Saying  this  he  put  the  papers  beside  the  body  of  Thora 
and  wrapped  them  in  the  long  plaits  of  her  beautiful  hair. 

"  Oscar !     Oscar !  "  cried  Helga  in  breathless  horror. 

The  others  listened  and  looked  on,  hardly  realizing  what 
Oscar  had  resigned,  but  Helga  realized  it,  and  she  was 
trying  to  warn  him  against  the  life-long  sacrifice.  But  he 
did  not  seem  to  hear  her,  and  at  such  a  moment  further 
remonstrance  was  impossible. 

"  My  sweet  girl,"  said  Oscar,  stretching  both  arms  over 
the  bed,  "  forgive  me  for  all  my  failures  of  duty.  Oh,  what 
I  would  give  to  forget  them  now ;  but  I  can't,  I  can't !  You 
are  gone,  and  I  can  never  make  amends." 

Thinking  to  put  an  end  to  a  scene  which  was  touching 
everybody  too  deeply,  the  Governor  signed  to  the  man  in 
the  shirt-sleeves,  but  when  the  man  stepped  forward  Oscar's 
grief  broke  out  afresh,  and  in  the  vehemence  of  his  sorrow 
his  tongue  lost  all  control  of  itself. 

"Not  yet!"  he  cried.  "Oh,  God!  Thora!  My  wife! 
My  sweet  young  wife!  Let  me  look  at  her  face  again! 
How  bright  and  happy  it  used  to  be,  and  now  it  is  leaving 
me  like  this!  Forgive  me,  my  angel!  Say  you  forgive  me 
before  you  go !  I  can  not  live  without  your  forgiveness !  I 
wronged  you  and  sinned  against  you,  but  you  were  good  and 
your  childlike  heart  was  from  God !  " 

The  desolate  cry  rang  through  the  room,  and  each  of  those 
who  heard  the  revelation  of  the  naked  soul  read  it  by  the 
light  of  his  own.  Helga  trembled  and  turned  to  the  window, 
the  Governor  and  the  Factor  dropped  their  heads,  but  Aunt 
Margret  cried  openly  in  innocent  sympathy,  and  Anna 
touched  Oscar's  arm  and  tried  to  comfort  him. 

After  a  moment  Oscar  became  more  calm  and  even  signed 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  211 

io  the  man  himself,  and  when  all  was  over  he  walked  firmly 
and  courageously  out  of  the  room. 


On  the  day  of  the  funeral  Oscar  was  weak  and  ill,  and 
more  fit  for  his  bed  than  for  a  journey  to  the  cemetery,  but 
no  one  could  prevail  on  him  not  to  go.  The  morning  was 
dull  and  drear,  with  black  clouds  from  the  mountains  and 
some  sprinklings  of  rain,  and  when  the  dread  hour  struck, 
and  Oscar  came  down  among  the  mourners,  his  face  looked 
ghastly  in  the  void  and  heavy  air. 

The  bell  in  the  cathedral  tower  began  to  toll,  the  solemn 
turden  was  borne  slowly  down  the  stairs,  and  then  Oscar's 
white  face  became  yet  more  white  and  he  would  have  fallen 
^ut  for  his  father's  arm  which  held  him  up. 

The  body  was  first  rested  on  the  green  outside  the  door, 
and  while  the  mourners  grouped  themselves  round  in  a  wide 
iialf-circle  to  sing  a  parting  hymn,  Oscar  stood  bareheaded 
in  the  drizzling  rain  which  had  begun  to  fall. 

John,  the  servant,  stood  at  the  gate,  holding  Silvertop, 
Thora's  pony,  which  he  had  brought  from  the  farm  to  carry 
her  on  her  last  journey,  and  the  sight  of  this  horse  seemed 
to  be  more  than  Oscar  could  bear.  The  coffin  was  laid  cross- 
wise on  the  panniers  and  the  procession  began  to  form. 
It  passed  through  deep  lines  of  the  townspeople,  Oscar  walk- 
ing first  after  the  body,  alone,  bareheaded  and  conscious  of 
nothing  but  his  grief.  The  bell  was  still  tolling  and  a  Sab- 
bath quiet  had  fallen  over  the  town. 

The  cathedral  was  crowded  with  the  same  faces  that  had 
looked  on  at  Thora's  wedding,  when  she  came  down  from 
the  altar  in  her  bloom  and  beauty,  happy  and  smiling  on  her 
husband's  arm;  and  now  that  she  was  being  carried  up  to  it, 
while  the  organ  played  the  funeral  march,  and  Oscar  walked 
with  drooping  head  behind,  the  people  nearest  the  aisle  said 
he  was  weeping  audibly. 

The  coffin  in  its  pall  was  set  down  on  the  steps  to  the 
communion  rail — the  spot  where  Thora  had  knelt  as  a  young 
girl  to  be  confirmed  and  as  a  bride  to  be  married — and  then 


212  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

the  Bishop  who  had  been  waiting  to  receive  it  delivered  3 
consolatory  address. 

They  should  not  ask  themselves  why  this  sweet  and  lovely 
life  had  been  so  ruthlessly  cut  off.  The  ways  of  Providence 
were  inscrutable,  but  God  was  in  heaven  and  the  Judge 
of  all  the  earth  did  right.  Neither  should  the  family  who 
were  there  to  mourn  take  blame  to  themselves  for  what  had 
occurred,  for  if  it  had  pleased  the  Almighty  to  lay  His  hand 
on  the  afflicted  brain  of  their  dear  departed  sister.  He  knew 
best  why  He  did  so,  and  to  what  end  it  was  done.  Rather 
let  them  kneel  in  gratitude  to  God  that  in  His  mercy  He 
had  not  suffered  her  to  lift  her  hand  against  herself,  and  so 
rob  them  of  the  blessed  hope  of  eternal  life. 

"  To  the  young  husband  who  is  here  plunged  in  sorrow," 
said  the  Bishop,  "  what  can  we  say  but  that  all  our  hearts 
go  out  to  him?  It  seems  only  yesterday  that  he  stood  on 
this  spot  to  make  his  vows  before  heaven  and  before  men  to 
love  and  cherish  the  dear  girl  who  has  been  so  suddenly 
taken  away.  If  she  had  lived  he  would  have  kept  his  prom- 
ises, and  though  she  is  gone,  he  will  preserve  the  spirit  of 
them  still.  The  pure  and  innocent  soul  who  linked  her  life 
with  his  life  will  be  an  abiding  memory,  a  perpetual  inspira- 
tion against  sin,  and  when  the  first  pangs  of  grief  are  over, 
a  constant  solace  and  a  lasting  joy." 

If  it  was  possible  for  Oscar  to  look  more  wan  and  weak 
than  when  he  went  into  the  cathedral,  he  did  so  when  he 
came  out  of  it.  The  rain  was  now  falling  heavily,  but  when 
the  procession  was  formed  again  for  the  last  stage  of  the 
journey,  he  walked  bareheaded  as  before. 

The  Factor,  who  was  behind  Oscar  (with  Helga  quivering 
on  his  arm),  begged  him  to  put  on  his  hat,  but  he  refused, 
and  when  the  Governor,  who  came  next  with  Anna,  passed 
up  an  iimbrella,  he  shook  his  head  and  sent  it  back.  The 
bell  tolled  again,  the  little  town  sat  quiet,  and  the  towns- 
people who  wept  floods  of  tears  for  Thora,  wept  for  Oscar 
even  more. 

When  the  procession  reached  the  cemetery  the  rain  was 
coming  down  in  torrents  and  even  the  priest  put  an  overcoat 
over  his  cassock,  but  Oscar  stood  uncovered  by  the  open 
grave.    During  the  short  prayer — "  dust  to  dust " — he  suf- 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  213 

fered  visibly,  and  during  the  long  hymn  that  is  always  sung 
at  an  Icelandic  fvuicral,  while  the  grave  is  being  filled  in, 
the  hollow  thuds  of  the  falling  earth  seemed  to  beat  upon 
his  twitching  face. 

When  all  was  at  an  end  he  could  not  be  drawn  away  until 
his  father  took  him  by  the  arm  and  said  in  a  firm  voice, 
"  Come."  Then  with  a  stronger  step  he  walked  with  a  rem- 
nant of  the  broken  procession  across  the  little  cemetery — the 
hummocked  home-field  of  the  dead — through  the  gate  to 
the  road — where  Hans,  the  water-carrier  in  the  sleeveless 
waistcoat  Thora  had  made  for  him,  was  giving  water  to 
her  horse — past  the  Factor's  house — where  Aunt  Margret 
•watched  at  a  window  with  the  baby  in  her  arms — and  thus 
back  to  his  empty  home. 

At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  he  excused  himself  when  the 
maumers  went  in  to  their  meal,  and  he  was  seen  no  more 
that  day. 

The  dirmer  was  a  cheerless  thing,  being  served  in  the 
room  that  had  witnessed  the  home-coming,  and  so  chilled 
with  memories  of  that  happier  event.  Silently,  or  in  whis- 
pers, the  mourners  bade  their  adieus  and  crept  away  one 
by  one,  leaving  the  few  remaining  members  of  the  two 
families  with  wide  spaces  between  them  at  the  table  like  gaps 
in  a  toothless  skull. 

The  Governor  and  the  Factor  had  not  spoken  since  their 
return  from  the  Proclamation,  and  the  interval  of  silence 
had  made  the  rift  between  the  two  old  friends  grow  wide. 

"  Ah,  well !  "  yawned  the  Factor,  "  it's  all  over,  I  suppose." 

Then  he  turned  to  the  Governor  and  asked  sharply, 
"  Where  is  Magnus  ?    I've  seen  nothing  of  him  to-day." 

The  Governor  did  not  answer  and  Anna  dropped  her  head< 
and  then  Helga,  who  was  the  only  other  person  present,  said 
quietly : 

"  Somebody  saw  him  at  the  Hotel — he  did  right  not  to 
come  to  the  fimeral — they  say  he  was  not  quite  sober," 

"  Just  like  him,"  said  the  Factor.  "  A  yeU  is  all  you  hear 
of  a  wolf,  and  but  for  his  last  drinking  bout,  perhaps  nothing 
of  this  would  have  happened." 

The  Governor's  proud  face  quivered,  but  he  did  not  speak, 
and  soon  afterward  the  Factor  and  Helga  went  away. 


214  THE    PEODIGAL    SON 


XI 

Early  next  morning,  before  the  household  was  astir,  the 
Governor  was  in  his  bureau,  ready  to  begin  on  the  arrears  of 
business,  when  somebody  knocked  at  the  door.  It  was  Mag- 
nus, white  and  worn,  but  sober  and  serious  as  a  judge. 

"  May  I  speak  to  you,  sir?  "  said  Magnus. 

"  Well — perhaps  for  a  moment — come  in,"  said  the  Gov- 
ernor. 

It  occurred  to  the  Governor  as  Magnus  entered  the  bureau 
that  he  had  come  for  money  to  help  him  with  the  farm,  and 
he  said  immediately : 

"  If  you  have  come  for  financial  assistance  toward  stock 
and  seed  and  what  not,  I  ought  to  tell  you  at  once,  Magnus, 
that  I  have  nothing  to  give  you.  I  have  already  spent  as 
much  on  the  farm  as  I  am  justified  in  spending — more  per- 
haps than  I  ought  to  have  spent  on  the  inheritance  of  one 
of  my  sons  in  justice  to  the  claims  of  the  other  one — and  if 
it  is  money — ready  money " 

"  I  do  not  come  to  ask  for  money,"  said  Magnus.  "  But  I 
come  to  speak  about  it,"  he  added,  and  then  he  sat  on  a 
low  seat  and  twisted  his  felt  hat  between  his  knees,  while 
the  Governor  leaned  back  in  his  desk-chair  and  fingered 
a  pen. 

"  I  wish  to  ask,"  said  Magnus,  "  whether  you  drew,  about 
six  months  ago,  a  bill  on  the  Bank  of  Denmark  for  one  hun- 
dred thousand  crowns." 

The  Governor  uttered  a  contemptuous  snort  and  said, 
"Certainly  not;  I  have  never  drawn  a  bill  in  my  life  and 
never  shall  do  so.    Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Because  a  bill  for  that  amount  is  in  town  at  this  mo- 
ment," said  Magnus. 

"  Then  it  is  a  forgery — an  impudent  forgery — and  the 
forger  must  be  found  and  promptly  punished." 

The  Governor  had  risen  in  his  chair  when  he  looked  at 
Magnus's  drooping  head  and  a  thought  occurred  to  him. 

"  But  are  you  sure  of  what  you  say  ?  Is  this  story  true  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  I  have  seen  the  paper  myself,"  replied  Magnus. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  215^ 

**  And  it  is  signed  in  my  name  ?  " 

"  It  is  signed  in  your  name,  sir,  and  witnessed  in  the  name 
of  the  Factor." 

"  That,  too,"  said  the  Governor,  while  a  painful  smile  came 
into  his  face.  "  And  pray  whom  is  this  extraordinary  docu- 
ment drawn  in  favor  of  ?  " 

Magnus  did  not  reply  immediately — he  continued  to  twist 
his  hat  between  his  knees. 

"  That  may  help  us  to  find  the  motive,  and  therefore  the 
forger — who  is  it  ?  " 

"  Oscar  Stephenson,"  said  Magnus. 

"Oscar?     Your  brother?" 

"  Yes,  sir — and  the  money  was  paid  to  him  in  Paris." 

"  What  ?  "  cried  the  Governor,  crossing  the  floor.  "  You 
tell  me  that  Oscar — your  brother  Oscar — has  committed  a 
forgery?  Oh,  that's  what  you  mean — don't  deny  it — ^you 
mean  that  my  son  is  a  forger  ?  " 

Magnus  made  no  answer,  and  after  a  moment  the  painful 
smile  about  the  Governor's  face  broke  into  a  more  painful 
laugh.  "  But  why  do  I  trouble  myself  with  such  a  trumpery 
story?  I  see  how  it  is,  Magnus — strong  drink  is  a  strong 
tongue — you  have  been  drinking." 

"  I  have  been  drinking,  sir — I  was  ill  and  I  couldn't  help 
it — but  I'm  sober  now,  and  what  I  tell  you  is  God's  truth." 

Magnus  rose  as  he  said  this  and  father  and  son  stood 
face  to  face — the  little  Governor  in  his  uniform  with  flushed 
cheeks  and  pigeon-breast  distended,  and  Magnus  big,  black, 
clumsy,  unkempt,  and  with  lines  of  suffering  in  his  face. 

"  And  this  document,  you  tell  me,  is  at  present  in  Ice- 
land?" 

"  It  is,  sir — two  officers  of  the  law  brought  it  here  from 
Copenhagen." 

"  Officers  of  the  law,  you  say  ?  " 

"  The  bank  found  reasons  to  suspect  the  signatures,  so 
they  sent  across  to  verify  them." 

"You  have  talked  with  these  men  yourself,  no  doubt?" 

"  The  Sheriff  brought  them  to  see  me,"  said  Magnus. 

"  The  Sheriff,  too !    The  Sheriff  of  all  men !  " 

"  He  is  to  bring  the  two  men  here  to-morrow  morning." 

"  So  he  is  to  bring  them  here  to-morrow  morning !  " 


216  THE   PRODIGAL    SON 

The  Governor,  though  heated  and  agitated,  laughed  onoe 
more,  and  said  with  a  sneer: 

"  Of  course,  in  the  interests  of  the  family,  you  felt  it 
necessary  to  examine  the  signatures  they  showed  you  ? " 

"  I  did,"  said  Magnus  simply. 

"And  without  consulting  me  to  denounce  the  forger?" 

Magnus  made  no  reply. 

"  And  even  to  hint — only  to  hint — that  perhaps  you  could 
point  to  the  forger  ? " 

Still  Magnus  made  no  answer,  and  dropping  his  cynical 
tone,  the  Governor  burst  out  in  choking  anger: 

"  Out  on  you,  man,  out  on  you !  I  thought  you  were 
drunk,  or  suffering  from  the  delusions  of  drink,  but  you 
are  worse — you  are  sweltering  in  hatred — and  it  is  an  un- 
natural hatred,  too — the  hatred  of  your  own  flesh  and  blood." 

Magnus  flinched  as  if  a  lash  had  cut  him  through  the  skin. 

"  You  are  jealous  of  your  brother — always  have  been,  al- 
ways will  be — because  he  is  clever  and  successful  and  amiable 
and  because  everybody  loves  him — you  are  as  jealous  of  your 
brother  as  Cain  was  of  Abel,  and  this  is  your  way  of  destroy- 
ing him." 

Magnus  stood  with  drooping  head  while  the  Governor's 
lash  fell  over  him. 

"  Aren't  you  ashamed  to  stand  before  your  father  and 
parade  the  whole  diabolical  catalogue  of  your  unnatural  pas- 
sions ?  You  allow  yourself  to  consort  with  my  enemies,  with 
Oscar's  enemies,  with  your  own  enemies,  if  you  had  the 
sense  to  see  it,  while  they  try  to  bring  him  down  at  the  high- 
est moment  of  his  success." 

The  Governor  was  walking  to  and  fro  and  lashing  himself 
into  a  fury. 

"  At  the  deepest  moment  of  his  distress,  too !  Just  when 
the  poor  boy  is  unmanned  by  the  loss  of  his  wife — the  dear 
girl  he  loved  and  you  insulted.  But  I  don't  believe  one  word 
of  this  cock-and-bull  story.  That  accursed  document  is 
nothing  but  a  trick  to  dishonor  my  son  and  to  discredit  me 
at  the  very  time  when  a  pack  of  rascals  who  call  themselves 
reformers  are  trying  to  abolish  the  Governorship.  Let  them 
do  it  if  they  can,  but  while  I  am  Governor  here  I'm  master 
in  this  house,  and  Mr.  Sheriff  shall  be  suspended  and  thcise 
men  sent  back  to  Copenhagen,"    - 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  217 

"Hadn't  you  better  speak  to  Oscar  first,  sir?"  said 
Magnus. 

"  Certainly,  I  shall,  and  if  I  find  as  I  expect — as  I  am 
sure — that  your  story  is  a  pack  of  falsehoods — let  me  never 
see  your  face  again." 

Without  a  word  of  defense  or  explanation,  Magnus  left 
the  room,  and  a  few  minutes  afterward  Oscar,  at  the  call 
of  the  Governor,  entered  it. 

Oscar's  face  was  as  pale  as  yesterday,  but  with  a  different 
pallor,  a  different  expression — an  expression  not  of  grief  and 
regret,  but  of  fear  and  shame. 

"  Oscar,"  said  the  Governor,  "  I  am  sorry  to  trouble  you 
about  business  so  soon  after  your  great  sorrow,  but  an  ugly 
story  is  being  told  about  you  in  town,  and  as  every  lie  has  its 
tail,  it  is  only  right  that  you  should  hear  of  this  one  imme- 
diately, so  that  it  may  be  quashed  without  delay." 

Oscar's  lower  lip  trembled — he  felt  the  blow  before  it  fell. 

"  Magnus — your  brother  Magnus — I  am  aware  he  has  not 
been  on  brotherly  terms  with  you — your  mother  has  told  me 
something  about  that — and  let  me  say  I  do  not  sympathize 
with  his  protests  and  pretensions — I  think  them  nothing  but 
an  excuse  for  his  own  selfishness — Magnus  has  just  been 
here,  and  he  tells  me  that  a  note  of  hand  drawn  in  your 
favor  for  no  less  a  sum  than  one  hundred  thousand  crowns 
has  been  forged  in  my  name,  I  do  not  believe  the  story 
and  I  do  not  want  you  to  discuss  it.  I  only  ask  you  to  con- 
tradict it — to  contradict  it  flatly — or  to  leave  me  to  deal  with 
the  real  offender  as  I  think  best." 

Oscar,  standing  by  the  Governor's  desk,  remained  for  a 
moment  quite  still.  Then  in  a  voice  so  low  that  it  hardly 
seemed  to  come  from  him,  he  said: 

"  I  can  not  contradict  it,  father.  What  Magnus  has  told 
you  is  true." 

"  True?    You  say  it  is  true?" 

Father  and  son  stood  facing  each  other  for  some  moments 
without  a  word  more  being  spoken.  Then  in  hot  words, 
broken  by  breathless  pauses,  the  Governor  poured  out  ques- 
tion after  question,  to  which  Oscar  made  no  answer. 

"  You  received  that  sum  and  signed  for  it  in  your  father's 
name? — in  the  name  of  your  father-in-law  also?  One  hun- 
dred thousand  crowns  ?    What  has  become  of  the  money  ?  " 


218  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  It  is  lost,"  said  Oscar. 

"Lost?" 

"  It  was  to  pay  the  debts  I  had  already  contracted." 

"  Was  that  at  Monte  Carlo  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

There  was  another  long  silence,  in  which  Oscar  stood  with 
quivering  lips  and  the  Governor  with  contracted  bi'ows. 

"  But  this  document — how  did  it  come  about  ?  " 

"  I  ask  myself  that  question  over  and  over  again,  father, 
and  I  fail  to  find  an  answer.  I  can  not  understand  myself — 
I  try  and  I  can  not." 

"  Were  you  mad  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  I  think  I  was — I  must  have  been." 

"  Did  somebody  tempt  you — put  the  idea  into  your  head  ? 
— somebody,  perhaps,  who  helped  you  to  lose  and  promised 
to  help  you  to  repay  ?    If  so,  who  was  it  ? " 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  accuse  anybody,  father — I  suppose  I 
have  no  right  to  do  so." 

"  Right  ?  Don't  talk  to  me  about  rights.  Think  about 
your  duties — and  the  first  of  your  duties  is  to  me,  not  to  the 
person,  whoever  it  may  be,  who  has  helped  to  destroy  you. 
You  have  pledged  my  credit  and  my  honor,  but  I  don't  want 
to  think  you  altogether  bad,  and  if  anybody  suggested  this 
devilish  device  to  pay  your  debts,  I  ought  to  be  told  who  it 
was.    Was  it  Helga  ?  " 

At  the  mention  of  that  name  Oscar's  drooping  head 
drooped  lower  still ;  the  Governor  saw  this  and  then  he  under- 
stood everything. 

"  Lord  God  forgive  us,"  he  said,  in  a  breathless  whisper. 
"  Then  Magnus  was  right,  after  all !  And  the  death  of  the 
poor  child  we  buried  yesterday  was  perhaps  a  part  of  the 
diabolical  harvest  we  are  reaping  to-day!  You  needn't 
wince,  sir — I  see  it's  true  without  that." 

Oscar  did  not  attempt  to  excuse  himself,  and  after  some 
moments  of  silence  the  Governor  spoke  again. 

"  You  have  deceived  and  disappointed  me,  Oscar.  I 
thought  I  had  one  son  who  was  an  intelligent  man  and  a 
gentleman,  not  a  forger  and  a  fool.  But  it  is  of  no  use  to 
prolong  a  painful  interview.     You  may  go." 

Oscar  staggered  out  of  the  room  and  the  Governor  sank 
into  his  chair. 


THE    PEODIGAL    SON  219 


xn 

The  proud  man  was  abased.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life 
he  was  degraded  in  his  own  eyes.  His  own  son  had  com- 
mitted a  vulgar  crime  and  exposed  himself  to  a  vulgar 
punishment. 

In  the  first  pain  of  surprise  and  humiliation  he  saw  him- 
self covering  up  the  whole  wretched  episode.  But  he  was 
too  proud  to  be  proud,  and  at  the  next  moment  he  began  to 
count  with  his  conscience.  Thus  far  he  had  tried  to  do  what 
was  right  in  Iceland,  and  he  would  do  what  was  right  to  the 
end,  whatever  it  might  cost  him. 

Oscar  had  offended  against  the  law  and  he  must  bear 
its  righteous  punishment.  It  might  be  eight  years'  imprison- 
ment, with  the  ruin  of  all  his  prospects,  the  waste  of  all 
his  talents,  and  the  wreck  of  all  his  happiness,  but  he  must 
go  thnough  with  it  to  the  last  hour,  the  last  penalty,  the 
last  pang. 

So  felt  the  Governor  as  Judge,  and  if  as  the  father  he  felt 
differently  it  was  only  with  a  different  intensity.  His  favor- 
ite son — the  son  whom  he  had  indulged  and  pampered  in  the 
past — for  whom  he  had  planned  and  prepared  so  many  things 
in  the  future — had  committed  a  crime  against  his  country 
and  against  himself,  relying  upon  his  father's  love  and  pride 
to  save  him  from  the  painful  consequences,  no  matter  what 
sacrifice  it  might  cost  him  in  hard-earned  money  or  in  money 
still  to  earn;  no  matter  how  much  it  might  put  him  at  the 
mercy  of  a  scheming  crew  who  were  striving  to  pull  him 
from  his  place !  It  was  selfish,  it  was  heartless,  it  was  shame- 
ful, it  was  infamous,  and  it  deserved  a  double  punishment. 

Feeling  more  bitterly  against  his  son  than  he  had  ever  felt 
before  against  any  human  creature,  the  Governor  passed  the 
day  in  torment,  and  he  was  sitting  alone  in  his  room  late 
at  night,  with  no  light  but  the  sleepy  glow  from  the  open, 
stove,  when  the  door  opened  noiselessly  and  Anna  entered. 
She  looked  as  if  she  had  been  crying,  although  her  eyes  were 
dry,  and  the  Governor  reproached  himself  that  in  all  his 
sorry  summary  of  the  consequences  of  his  son's  crime  he  had 
never  once  thought  of  his  son's  mother. 


220  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

But  neither  did  she  think  of  herself,  and  now  sitting  by  the 
stove  and  stirring  it,  she  began  to  talk  of  Oscar. 

"  He  has  fallen  asleep  at  last,"  she  said,  "  and  his  troubles 
are  over  for  a  little  while  anjTvay.  He  went  up  to  his  old 
bedroom  to-night,  Stephen,  the  one  he  slept  in  when  he  was 
a  boy — when  Magnus  and  he  were  boys  together.  I  sat  with 
him  until  he  dropped  off,  and  he  held  my  hand  all  the  time, 
just  as  he  used  to  do  after  he  had  been  naughty  and  you  had 
sent  him  to  bed  without  his  supper.  He  looks  quite  like 
himself  now,  poor  boy,  and  if  you  could  see  him  lying  there 
on  the  pillow,  you  would  think  the  old  days  had  come  back, 
when  you  used  to  go  up  with  the  candle  to  look  at  him,  and 
wipe  the  tears  from  his  little  face  while  he  lay  asleep,  and 
stroke  his  curly  hair.  Ah,  dear,  how  easily  he  could  throw 
off  his  troubles  in  those  old  days,  Stephen!  Next  morning 
you  would  hear  him  romping  about  overhead,  and  singing 
like  a  lark." 

"  A  shallow  nature,  Anna,"  said  the  Governor,  "  a  shallow 
nature,  on  which  nothing  makes  a  serious  impression — al- 
ways has  been,  always  will  be." 

"  Oh,  but  this  will,  Stephen,  this  will  make  a  deep  impres- 
sion, and  if  the  poor  boy  could  only  have  another  chance  he 
I  would  turn  over  a  new  leaf  and  set  to  work  in  good  earnest, 
and  realize  all  your  expectations.  And  then  think — only 
think,  father,  what  a  dreadful  thing  it  would  be  if  one 
brother  were  to  drag  the  other  into  the  dock — dreadful  for 
us,  I  mean.  We  should  lose  both  our  children,  for  Oscar 
would  be  lost  to  us  one  way  and  we  should  never  be  able 
to  look  on  Magnus  again." 

"  Our  children  have  always  been  at  war,  Anna,  ever  since 
their  earliest  infancy." 

"Don't  say  that,  Stephen.  When  they  were  little  they 
loved  each  other  dearly.  It  was  not  until  they  grew  up  that 
they  were  different.  And  then  others  came  between  them — 
one  other  anyway,  and — who  knows? — perhaps  she  has  been 
the  cause  of  all  this  trouble." 

"Has  Oscar  said  so?"  asked  the  Governor. 

"  He  will  say  nothing  against  anybody,"  replied  Anna. 
"  That  was  always  the  way  with  Oscar.  But  if  somebody 
tempted  him  and  he  was  weak,  and  if  our  poor  boy  must  go 
to  prison  while  she " 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  221 

"  There  is  a  weakness  that  is  wickedness,  Anna,  and  must 
bear  its  pains  and  penalties." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Anna.  "  I  remember  you  said  the 
same  words  long  ago  when  the  sailor  lad  killed  his  sweet- 
heart in  a  fit  of  drunken  passion.  The  mother  was  a  widow 
and  she  came  to  ask  me  to  plead  with  you  for  her  son.  He 
was  a  good  boy,  she  said,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
drink  he  would  never  have  hurt  any  one.  You  spared  his 
life,  you  know,  and  he  was  sent  to  prison.  And  dear  me, 
how  the  poor  woman  kissed  me  and  wept  on  my  face  for 
joy !  But  she  came  to  think  that  for  her  part  it  might  have 
been  better  if  her  boy  had  died  instead  of  being  locked  up 
for  ever.  She  could  never  forget  it,  and  when  her  eldest 
daughter  was  married  and  her  house  was  full  of  people,  and 
everybody  was  happy,  she  suddenly  remembered  and  ran 
up-stairs  to  cry.  And  then  on  wintry  nights,  when  the  wind 
was  moaning  over  the  sea  and  she  was  putting  the  little  boys 
to  bed,  she  always  thought  of  their  brother  lying  alone  in 
the  big  brown  house  up  the  road  and  round  the  corner.  It 
wouldn't  have  been  so  bad  if  he  had  been  sent  away,  she 
thought.  And  she  was  only  a  poor  widow  who  washed  at  the 
hot  springs." 

The  night  wind  was  moaning  over  the  sea  at  that  moment, 
and  the  Governor,  who  had  been  walking  to  and  fro,  strug- 
gling to  be  righteous  and  severe,  was  feeling  a  pain  in  his 
parched  throat. 

He  stood  for  some  moments  by  the  window,  with  his  hands 
interlaced  behind  him,  looking  out  through  the  dark  pane  on 
the  flying  moon,  and  then  with  an  obvious  inward  effort  he 
said: 

"  Anna,  if  I  acknowledge  this  signature  we  shall  have 
nothing  left — nothing  but  my  salary.  Even  my  salary  is 
threatened,  and  if  it  goes  we  shall  be  without  anything  in  the 
world." 

"  AVhy  should  we  think  of  that,  Stephen  ? "  said  Anna. 
"  We  had  nothing  when  we  married,  and  yet  we  were  very 
happy.  It  is  true  we  were  young  then,  and  now  we  are  old, 
but  if  poverty  comes  again  we  shall  know  better  how  to 
bear  it.  And  if  we  have  nothing  else  we  will  have  each 
other — and   our   boys,   too — both  our   boys — wherever   they 


222  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

may  be  by  that  time — and  neither  of  tbem  will  love  us  the 
less  because  wc  have  given  up  everything — everything  we 
had  in  the  world — that  they  might  still  be  honored  and 
respected." 

The  clock  struck  twelve  in  the  tower  of  the  cathedral,  with 
a  reverberant  ring  that  passed  over  the  sleepy  town,  and  the 
Governor  stopped  in  his  restless  perambulation. 

"It  is  late,  mother,"  he  said,  in  a  husky  voice,  "let  us 
go  to  bed." 

xni 

IN'ext  morning  the  Governor  was  in  his  bureau  again.  He 
was  now  firm  and  composed  and  waiting  calmly  for  the  offi- 
cers from  Copenhagen.  They  came  early,  headed  by  the 
Sheriff,  and  bore  themselves  largely,  like  men  who  were  con- 
scious that  they  were  about  to  administer  a  painful  shock. 

After  the  formal  introductions  the  Sheriff  leaned  above  the 
Governor's  desk  and  said  suavely,  almost  condescendingly : 

"  These  gentlemen  have  been  anxious  to  show  every  con^ 
si  deration.  They  came  on  an  urgent  matter — I  may  say  a 
most  urgent  matter — but  they  have  waited  five  days,  rather 
than  break  in  upon  you  at  a  time  of  domestic  tribulation." 

"  I  am  busy  this  morning,  Mr.  Sheriff,"  said  the  Governor. 
"  Be  so  good  as  to  waste  no  more  time  than  is  necessary." 

The  Sheriff  gasped  and  fell  back  from  the  desk,  whereupon 
the  strangers  stepped  up  to  it,  and  one  of  them  opening 
a  large  envelope,  said  in  a  tone  of  indulgent  courtesy : 

"  We  have  a  document  here,  your  Excellency,  which  claims 
to  be  drawn  by  your  authority.  Will  you  be  good  enough  to 
see  if  this  is  your  Excellency's  signature  ? " 

The  Governor  fixed  his  eye-glasses  leisurely,  and  glancing 
hastily,  almost  casually,  at  the  paper  put  before  him,  replied 
promptly : 

"  It  is." 

The  strangers  looked  at  each  other  in  silence  before  th©y 
spoke  again. 

"  In  that  case  we  presume  your  Excellency  will  be  pre- 
pared to  honor  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  Governor. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  223 

"  Then  your  Excellency  will  be  aware  that  the  bill  is  al- 
ready overdue  and  that  two  applications  have  been  made  for 
payment  ? " 

The  Governor  flinched  at  that  question,  but  recovering 
himself  in  a  moment,  he  said,  shortly : 

"  The  bill  shall  be  met  immediately." 

"  How  soon,  your  Excellency — a  week,  a  fortnight  ?  " 

"  Three  days,"  said  the  Governor.  "  Good-morning,  gen- 
tlemen," and  without  more  ceremony  he  took  up  his  pen  and 
began  to  write  a  letter. 

The  Sheriff,  who  was  perspiring  visibly  by  this  time,  had 
edged  round  to  the  door,  and  after  a  short  silence,  in  which 
nothing  was  heard  but  the  scratching  of  the  Governor's 
quill,  the  strangers  bowed  to  his  stooping  forehead  and 
backed  themselves  out  of  the  room. 

The  Governor's  letter  was  to  the  Factor,  asking  him  to 
come  immediately.  He  came,  looking  sullen  and  suspicious, 
with  the  air  of  one  who  knew  something  already  of  the  busi- 
ness for  which  he  had  been  summoned. 

"  Old  friend,"  said  the  Governor,  "  we  have  known  each 
other  for  fifty  years,  and  I  have  never  yet  asked  you  to  do 
me  a  favor,  but  I  am  going  to  ask  you  now." 

"  H'm !  "  said  the  Factor,  with  a  cold  smile. 

"It  is  not  for  my  own  needs  I  ask  it,  but  for  one  who  is 
nearer  to  me  than  myself.  We  who  are  fathers  know  what 
that  means;  and  we  also  know  that  a  favor  done  once  to 
our  children  is  done  twice  to  ourselves." 

"  H'm,  h'm !  "  said  the  Factor,  with  the  same  cold  smile. 

"  It  is  a  private  matter — strictly  private — but  to  you,  old 
friend,  I  can  reveal  the  secret — your  godson  has  got  himself 
into  trouble." 

And  then,  excusing  and  extenuating  nothing,  the  Gov- 
ernor told  the  story  of  Oscar's  downfall,  and  the  Factor 
listened  with  the  impatience  of  one  who  had  heard  the  sorry 
tale  before. 

"  He  signed  my  name  also,  you  say  ? "  said  the  Factor. 

*'  That,  too,  unhappily,"  answered  the  Governor,  "  but  you 
were  merely  made  witness  to  the  deed,  and  I  am  responsible 
for  the  money." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?"  asked  the  Factor 
in  a  hard  tone. 


224  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  Pay  it  and  give  the  lad  another  chance  in  life,"  replied 
the  Governor.  "  And  that's  why  I  sent  for  you  this  morning. 
I  can  find  fifty  thousand  crowns  and  I  want  you  to  lend  me 
the  other  fifty  thousand." 

"  Xot  fifty  thousand  cents,"  said  the  Factor.  "  ISTot  fifty — 
to  shield  a  criminal  and  to  cheat  the  law." 

The  Governor's  face  whitened,  but  he  answered  quietly, 
"  Don't  speak  so  fast,  old  friend.  Remember  that  the  of- 
fense against  the  law  is  only  an  offense  against  myself,  and 
if  I  choose  to  forgive  it  the  law  can  have  nothing  to  say." 

"  What  about  the  offense  against  me  ? "  said  the  Factor. 

"  Remember,  too,"  continued  the  Governor,  "  that  if  Oscar 
has  made  free  with  your  name  he  has  certain  claims  upon 
your  purse — there  is  the  marriage  contract." 

"  The  marriage  contract  was  made  for  Thora,  and  Thora 
is  dead,"  said  the  Factor. 

"  There  is  the  child,"  said  the  Governor. 

"  I  hold  the  child  now  and  I  am  prepared  to  provide  for 
it  in  the  future,"  said  the  Factor,  "  but  I  will  have  nothing 
more  to  do  with  a  man  who  has  forged  my  name,  and  if  any 
further  claim  is  made — on  my  business  or  estate  or  what 
not — I  will  protest  against  it  and  publish  my  reasons  for 
doing  80." 

"  Oscar  Neilsen,"  said  the  Governor,  "  there  is  something 
I  have  not  told  you,  something  I  did  not  intend  to  tell  you, 
but  I  must  tell  it  to  you  now.  I  have  reason  to  believe — to  be 
confident — that  for  the  trouble  in  which  Oscar  finds  himself 
Helga  is  partly  responsible." 

"  Can  you  prove  that,  Stephen  Magnusson  ?  "  said  the 
Factor. 

"  If  I  can  not  prove  it,"  replied  the  Governor,  "  it  is  be- 
cause my  son — whatever  his  faults  and  follies — is  still  a 
gentleman ;  and  if  you  do  not  know  it  by  this  time  it  is  be- 
cause your  daughter  is  not  a  lady." 

"  Speak  for  your  own,  Stephen  Magnusson,  and  leave  mine 
to  me,"  said  the  Factor. 

"  Therefore,"  continued  the  Governor,  "  when  I  pay  this 
money — and  I  shall  pay  it — ^you  will  have  the  satisfaction  to 
know  that  though  I  am  a  poor  man  and  you  are  a  rich  one, 
I  am  discharging  your  debt  as  well  as  mine." 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  225 

With  that,  red  and  angry,  the  Governor  walked  to  the 
door  and  opened  it.  The  Factor  looked  at  him  in  blank 
amazement,  and  for  one  swift  instant  his  better  nature  con- 
quered his  greed  and  he  saw  what  a  pitiful  thing  it  was  that 
after  fifty  years  of  friendship  they  should  quarrel  thus  about 
their  children.  But  one  sword  draws  another  from  its  sheath, 
and  he  snapped  his  fingers  contemptuously  and  strode  out 
of  the  room. 

Then  the  Governor  sent  for  the  manager  of  the  Bank  of 
Iceland. 

"  Manager,"  he  said,  "  I  wish  you  to  arrange  a  loan  of 
one  hundred  thousand  crowns  on  the  security  of  my  farm 
at  Thingvellir." 

"  The  fai-m  is  hardly  worth  so  much,  sir — I  say  it  is  hardly 
worth  so  much,"  said  the  manager.  "  But  in  your  case  there 
can  be  little  difficulty — none  whatever  if  you  are  willing  to 
pay  the  higher  interest — I  say  none  whatever  if  you  are  will- 
ing to  pay  the  higher  interest." 

"  I  agree,"  said  the  Governor,  "  and  let  the  deed  be  drawn 
without  delay." 


XIV 

Having  gone  through  the  material  part  of  his  preparations 
the  Governor  had  now  a  spiritual  and  more  trying  ordeal 
before  him,  and  he  went  out  into  the  home-field  to  think 
over  it.  Leaving  the  town  behind  he  walked,  with  hands,  as 
usual,  interlaced  behind  him,  as  far  as  to  the  margin  of  the 
fiord. 

It  was  a  beautiful  morning.  The  light  was  wonderful,  a 
silvery  light  that  made  the  light  of  other  days  seem  dull  and 
leaden,  full  of  innumerable  sparkles  like  the  stars  that  are 
sown  in  snow.  The  waters  of  the  fiord  were  heaving  slowly 
under  a  quivering  haze,  and  on  the  sea  outside — wide,  vast, 
stretching  far  away — a  number  of  fishing-boats,  with  their 
white  sails  bellied  to  a  breeze  that  could  not  be  felt  on  shore, 
were  going  on  and  on  as  if  sailing  into  the  sky.  The  mail- 
steamer  was  lying  at  anchor  in  the  bay,  getting  up  steam, 
for  her  voyage  back  to  England,  and  a  flock    of    lighters,, 


226  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

painted  white,  were  floating  about  her  black  hull,  like  sea- 
fowl  at  the  foot  of  a  lava  rock.  The  gulls  were  calling  high 
up  in  the  air,  and  from  the  sheltered  side  of  a  little  island 
the  last  of  the  year's  eider-duck  were  coaxing  or  driving 
their  young  ones  into  the  sea  to  prepare  them  for  their  flight 
to  far-off  lands. 

It  was  a  cruelly  beautiful  morning,  one  of  those  radiant 
days  when  Nature  in  her  indifference  to  man  and  his  suf- 
ferings, seems  to  conjure  up  eveiy  joyous  sound  and  sight 
that  can  trouble  the  bitterest  waters  of  memory — when  the 
very  sunshine  seems  to  break  one's  heart. 

At  length  the  proud  man  who  was  walking  through  the 
hummocked  home-field,  with  head  bent  low  by  the  sorrow  of 
a  wrecked  and  shattered  hope,  saw  plainly  what  he  had  to 
do.  In  love  no  less  than  anger,  in  justice  no  less  than  duty, 
he  had  to  cast  off  forever  his  favorite  son,  the  pride  of  his 
heart  and  the  hope  of  his  life. 

As  soon  as  he  returned  to  the  house  he  sent  up-stairs  for 
Oscar.  After  some  moments  Oscar  came  down  slowly,  look- 
ing more  ill  and  weak  than  ever,  and  stood  by  the  stove  with 
drooping  head  like  a  prisoner  about  to  receive  his  sentence. 
The  Governor  glanced  up  at  his  son  from  over  the  rims  of  his 
eye-glasses,  and  at  first  his  heart  failed  him,  but  after  a 
moment  he  steeled  himself  to  his  task  and  began  to  speak  in 
a  steady  voice. 

"  I  have  sent  for  you  to  tell  you,"  he  said,  "  that  for  your 
mother's  sake — I  prefer  to  put  it  so — I  have  acknowledged 
that  signature  and  am  preparing  to  pay  the  money  you  have 
wasted.  To  do  so  I  am  compelled  to  mortgage  every  penny- 
worth of  property  we  possess,  so  that  apart  from  my  official 
salary  I  shall  soon  have  nothing.  Worse  than  that  I  have 
had  to  eat  up  your  brother's  inheritance  in  order  to  purchase 
your  liberty,  and  whether  I  had  a  right  to  do  so  God  alone 
can  say." 

Oscar  shivered  as  from  cold ;  the  Governor  saw  this,  waited 
a  moment,  and  then  went  on. 

"  The  condition  on  which  I  make  this  sacrifice  is  that  you 
leave  Iceland  immediately.  You  will  sail  by  the  *  Laura,' 
which  goes  back  this  evening,  and,  as  your  honor  is  my 
honor,  I  will  give  it  out  that  your  health  is  broken  after 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  227 

the  death  of  your  wife,  and  that  you  have  gone  away  to 
recruit." 

The  Governor  paused  a  second  time,  and  when  he  spoke 
again  his  voice  was  thick  and  hoarse. 

"I  shall  not  expect  you  to  come  back  soon — I  shall  not 
GApect  you  to  come  back  at  all.  Inasmuch  as  you  have  done 
your  best — or  worst — to  wreck  my  happiness  I  will  ask  you 
to  consider  that  henceforth  our  lives  are  to  run  in  different 
courses,  and  that  for  my  own  part  I  wish  to  see  you  no 
more." 

The  Governor's  voice  was  now  husky  and  indistinct,  but 
still  he  struggled  on. 

"  You  will  look  to  yourself  for  your  livelihood  in  the  fu- 
ture, but  that — with  your  talents,  little  as  you  have  made 
of  them  hitherto — should  not  be  difficult.  Whatever  hap- 
pens here  I  shall  never  expect  you  to  do  anything  for  me, 
or  for  your  mother,  but  if  fortune  should  favor  you,  and 
you  are  able  to  repay  your  brother,  your  conscience  may 
be  the  easier  and — though  I  do  not  pity  him,  for  his  heart 
was  hard — the  earth  on  my  grave  the  lighter." 

The  Governor  paused  for  the  last  time,  cleared  his  throat, 
and  then  said  in  a  firmer  tone : 

"  Only  one  word  more.  I  thought  perhaps  your  father-in- 
law  might  have  done  something  for  you,  but  apart  from  a 
promise  to  provide  for  the  child,  he  will  do  nothing.  There- 
fore, as  I  have  reason  to  fear  that  his  daughter  Helga  was 
at  the  root  of  the  trouble  which  has  so  nearly  wrecked  us 
all,  and  perhaps  a  first  cause  of  the  death  of  our  dear  Thora, 
I  will  ask  you  to  promise  me — for  your  own  sake  more  than 
mine — to  hold  no  further  intercourse  with  him  or  his — do 
you  promise  ?  " 

There  was  silence  for  some  moments  and  then  a  muffled 
sob  came  as  from  the  stove  itself: 

"  I  promise." 

After  that  there  was  silence  again  for  a  perceptible  period, 
and  then  a  voice — a  strange  voice  that  was  like  a  cry — 
said: 

"  That  is  all.  And  now — good-by  and — and  God  help 
you!" 

Choking  with  emotion  and  blind  with  tears,  Oscar  turned 


228  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

about  to  acknovpledge  the  justice  of  his  punishment — to  say 
that  he  deserved  everything — everything  and  more — a  hun- 
dred-fold more — but  he  found  himself  alone.  His  father  had 
lied  from  the  room. 


XV 

When  Magnus  heard  of  what  his  father  had  done,  his 
wrath  knew  no  measure.  On  the  day  when  he  found  Thora 
dead  in  her  bed  he  had  said  to  himself,  "  Oscar  has  done  this 
and  he  must  be  made  to  suffer."  But  there  was  no  legal  way 
to  punish  a  man  who  had  tortured  his  wife  to  death  by  every 
refinement  of  hypocrisy  and  pretense,  and  it  was  at  the 
height  of  his  anger  that  the  offense  against  his  father's 
property  had  come  to  him  with  its  diabolical  temptation. 
"  Use  me,"  it  whispered,  "  the  damnable  spirit  of  the  world 
understands  me  better,"  and  after  a  struggle  in  which  the 
devils  seemed  to  fight  for  his  soul,  he  yielded. 

He  thought  he  knew  the  price  he  would  have  to  pay  and 
that  was  the  reason  he  did  not  join  his  family  at  the  funeral. 
EveiT^^body  would  loathe  him  for  giving  up  his  brother  to  the 
punishment  he  deserved.  His  own  mother  would  turn  from 
him,  and  after  his  father,  being  confronted  by  poverty,  had 
allowed  the  law  to  take  its  course,  he  would  hate  and  despise 
the  son  who  had  saved  him  from  beggary. 

But  no  matter!  When  he  stood  up  in  court  and  said, 
"  This  is  Oscar  Stephenson's  handwriting,  for  he  is  a  forger 
and  a  thief,"  and  a  thrill  of  horror  ran  through  the  crowded 
room,  and  every  eye  turned  on  him  with  contempt,  he  would 
say  to  his  secret  heart,  "  He  killed  her,  and  he  had  to  suffer, 
and  there  was  no  other  way  than  this !  " 

Yet  that  was  not  what  had  happened.  His  father  had 
saved  Oscar  from  the  just  punishment  of  his  infamous  of- 
fense. And  how  had  he  saved  him  ?  By  making  him — Mag- 
nus— pay  the  price  of  Oscar's  riotous  living  abroad.  Thus 
the  vengeance  which  he  had  vowed  upon  his  brother  had  re- 
coiled upon  himself,  and  while  his  rightful  inheritance  was 
wiped  out,  while  the  farm  on  which  he  had  built  his  last 
hopes  was  embarrassed  beyond  the  possibility  of  redemption. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  229 

and  he  was  ruined  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  the  man  for  whom 
and  by  whom  he  was  ruined — ruined  in  his  affections  as  well 
as  his  fortunes — was  to  be  allowed  to  steal  away  amid  a 
croaking  chorus  of  sympathy  and  pity  under  the  cloak  of 
broken  health  and  a  broken  heart ! 

What  a  devil's  world  it  was  in  which  infamy  could  mas- 
querade as  honor  and  hypocrisy  as  grief!  When  Magnus 
thought  in  this  way  his  eyesight  grew  dull  and  his  hearing 
dense  and  he  felt  a  cold  pain  at  the  back  of  his  neck.  Then 
he  began  to  use  again  the  only  remedy  he  had  recourse  to 
when  his  head  was  bad — he  began  to  drink. 

But  sitting  in  the  darkest  corner  of  the  smoking-room 
of  the  hotel,  every  word  he  heard — every  conversation  that 
filtered  through  the  smoke  and  noise  and  his  deadened  senses 
— seemed  to  stimulate  the  idea  which  had  taken  possession 
of  him — it  was  the  devil's  own  world  and  God  had  nothing 
whatever  to  do  with  it! 

At  one  moment  a  student  ran  into  the  room  and  shouted, 
above  the  laughter  and  singing  of  his  fellow-students,  "  Boys, 
what  do  you  think?  Oscar  Stephenson  is  sailing  by  the 
*  Laura '  to-night !  "  And  thereupon  a  babel  of  voices  cried, 
"  Keally !  "  "  Never !  "  "  You  don't  say  so !  "  "  True  enough 
— smashed  up  for  good  and  going  abroad  for  an  indefinite 
period !  "  "  ISTot  a  bit  of  it !  Oscar  isn't  the  sort  to  be  broken 
up  like  that.  Six  months  abroad  and  he'll  be  home  again  as 
bright  and  fresh  as  ever." 

"  So  he  will,"  thought  Magnus,  but  his  heart  was  fierce  and 
bitter. 

At  another  moment  the  chairman  of  the  Town  Board 
came  in  panting  and  cried,  "  News,  gentlemen,  news !  Oscar 
Stephenson  has  resigned  his  seat  in  Parliament !  "  "  Impos- 
sible !  "  "  Listen !  "  and  the  little  fat  man  read,  out  of  his 
rasping,  asthmatical  throat,  from  a  sheet  smelling  of  damp 
paper  and  printer's  ink  a  letter  from  Oscar  to  his  constitu- 
ents. Broken  in  health  and  happiness — compelled  to  go 
abroad — impossible  to  fix  date  of  return — consequently  forced 
to  tender  resignation — deeply  grieved  and  disappointed — but 
set  the  duties  too  high  to  ask  his  constituents  to  wait,  etc. — 
"  That  means  he's  not  coming  back !  "  "  But,  good  heavens, 
does  he  know  what  he's  giving  up?     Why,  there's  nothing 


230  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

that's  not  within  the  man's  reach — absolutely  nothing !  "  "  I 
wonder  the  Governor  has  allowed  him  to  do  it !  " 

And  then  Magnus  laughed  out  loud  in  the  fierce  bitterness 
of  his  heart. 

After  that  the  voices  were  lower  for  a  little  while,  and 
when  Magnus  heard  them  again  somebody  was  saying,  "  But 
a  man  can  love  a  woman  too  much  altogether.  Breaking 
your  life  to  pieces  because  you've  lost  your  wife  isn't  brave, 
it  isn't  manly."  "  Perhaps  not,  but  it's  human,"  said  some- 
body else,  "  and  if  Oscar  Stephenson  is  smashed  up  by  the 
death  of  Thora  ISTeilsen,  he's  in  the  right  of  it,  I  say." 

"  So  do  I,"  cried  Magnus,  and  laughing  wildly,  he  dropped 
his  head  over  his  arms  on  the  table.  What  a  devil's  own 
world  it  was  to  be  sure ! 

There  was  some  whispering  and  then  two  louder  voices: 
"  Poor  fellow !  So  unlike  his  brother !  Going  it  fast,  they 
say  !  "  "  His  father  was  pretty  hard  on  him,  though  !  "  "  Not 
harder  than  he  deserved,  poor  devil !  " 

The  poison  in  the  soul  of  Magnus  was  fermenting  every 
moment.  Hearing  the  contemptuous  pity  with  which  he 
was  contrasted  with  his  brother — his  brother  who  had 
wrought  all  the  evil — his  temples  beat  furiously  and  one 
wild  thought  expelled  all  other  thoughts  from  his  brain.  If 
there  was  no  law  to  punish  Oscar,  if  his  father  had  conspired 
to  help  Oscar  to  escape  and  if  the  hypocritical  community 
agreed  to  cover  up  his  fault,  one  thing  at  least  remained — 
before  Oscar  left  Iceland  he  must  meet  with  him !  Then  if 
this  was  the  devil's  own  world  let  the  devil  look  after  his 
elect ! 

Magnus's  mind  was  weltering  in  this  thought  as  in  a  boil- 
ing sulphur  pit  when  the  captain  of  the  "  Laura  "  came  into 
the  smoking-room  with  the  agent  of  the  steamship  company, 
and  seating  themselves  near  to  him,  began  to  converse  apart. 
"  Then  he  will  have  to  put  up  with  a  bed  in  the  hold,  for  all 
the  berths  are  gone,"  said  the  captain.  "  But  why  can't  he 
wait  for  the  next  steamer  ?  "  "  I'll  tell  you  why,"  whispered 
the  agent,  "  because  the  Factor's  daughter  is  to  sail  by  the 
Vesta  and  there  seem  to  be  reasons  why  they  should  not 
meet."  "  So  that's  it,  is  it?  But  their  fathers  are  fools  not 
to  know  that  they'll  meet  on  the  other  side  if  they  want  to." 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  231 

Overhearing  this  conversation,  Magnus  lifted  his  head  from, 
his  arms,  drank  a  large  tumbler  of  brandy  and  water  to  the 
last  drop,  and  walked  heavily  out  of  the  house.  He  had  not 
been  conscious  of  the  passing  of  time,  but  the  darkness  was 
now  closing  in,  porters  were  hurrying  with  luggage  toward 
the  pier  and  the  first  of  the  "  Laura's "  three  bells  was 
ringing, 

Magnus  was  like  a  man  who  could  not  see  or  hear  properly. 
More  than  once  he  collided  with  people  on  the  parapet,  and 
being  big  and  strong  he  brushed  them  out  of  the  way.  Some 
of  them  cursed  him,  but  he  did  not  stop.  His  clouded  facul- 
ties were  conscious  of  one  idea  only — that  he  must  go  to 
Government  House  and  meet  Oscar  face  to  face  before  he 
sailed. 

Reaching  his  former  home  he  found  the  door  open,  as 
usual  on  an  autumn  evening,  and  nobody  in  porch  or  hall. 
Avoiding  his  father's  door,  he  walked  up-stairs  and  turned 
mechanically  toward  the  apartments  which  had  lately  been 
occupied  by  Oscar.  But  that  was  a  part  of  the  house  sacred 
to  his  memory  of  Thora,  and  even  in  this  hour  of  passion 
and  pain  something  whispered  to  his  tortured  conscience, 
and  he  turned  away.  A  moment  later  he  was  in  Oscar's  bed- 
room on  the  upper  floor. 

The  furniture  was  in  disorder,  the  carpet  was  awry,  and 
articles  of  apparel  were  scattered  about  as  if  somebody  had 
been  packing  trunks,  but  the  trunks  were  gone  and  there 
was  nobody  in  the  room.  Magnus  was  about  to  go  when  his 
eyes  were  arrested  by  papers  on  a  desk.  Among  sheets  of 
music  and  scraps  from  newspaper  there  were  the  remains 
of  a  letter  doubled  up  and  torn  across. 

Magnus  knew  the  handwriting — it  was  Helga's — and  with- 
out any  compunction  he  put  the  pieces  together  and  read 
the  letter: 

"  Oscar : — As  soon  as  I  heard  that  the  Governor  had  spoken 
to  you  on  the  fatal  subject,  I  confessed  everything  to  my 
father  and  took  my  own  share  of  the  transaction.  Of  course, 
he  was  furious,  and  now  he  vows  that  I  must  go  back  imme- 
diately to  my  mother  in  Copenhagen.  That  does  not  trouble 
me,  seeing  that  you  are  leaving  Iceland,  but  I  must  see  you 
before  you  go.    In  spite  of  all  you  say,  and  notwithstanding 


232  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

any  promise  you  may  have  given  to  anybody,  it  is  impossible 
that  we  can  part  like  this.  It  would  be  too  selfish  and  too 
cowardly  not  to  give  me  the  chance  of  seeing  you  for  the  last 
time.  Your  steamer  sails  at  nine  o'clock — come  to  me  at 
half-past  eight.  If  you  do  not  come  I  may  even  follow  you 
to  London — I  will  do  so  if " 

Magnus  read  no  more,  but  ramming  the  pieces  into  his 
pocket  he  plunged  down  the  stairs  and  out  into  the  street. 
If  anybody  could  have  seen  him  at  that  moment  his  appear- 
ance must  have  seemed  terrible,  for  his  eyes  were  bloodshot, 
and  the  veins  on  his  forehead  were  swollen  and  dark.  It  was 
now  night  and  the  second  bell  was  ringing  in  the  bay. 

He  was  lunging  along  in  the  direction  of  the  Factor's, 
when  somebody  crossed  in  front  of  him  in  the  thoroughfare. 
It  was  Oscar  himself  and  he  was  going  in  another  direction. 
Magnus  was  like  a  man  whose  reason  is  clogged,  but  he  saw 
everything  in  the  light  of  his  own  making.  His  brother  was 
returning  from  the  pier  after  taking  his  baggage  aboard, 
and  he  had  come  ashore  on  a  last  errand.  Magnus  knew  what 
errand  that  was — it  was  to  see  Helga,  and  they  were  going 
to  meet  where  they  could  be  unobserved. 

The  moon  had  risen  by  this  time  and  Magnus  could  keep 
his  brother  in  view  while  he  followed  like  a  hound  behind 
him.  He  saw  nothing  else  and  was  not  even  conscious  of 
what  streets  they  passed  through,  save  that  they  were  going 
toward  the  upper  part  of  the  town,  near  to  the  lake,  and  down 
the  road  that  runs  beside  it. 

He  tried  to  walk  softly  and  to  make  no  noise,  but  some- 
times a  hard  laugh  broke  from  his  dry  throat  and  once  or 
twice  a  great  sob  came  behind  it.  He  was  thinking  of  Thora, 
and  telling  himself  what  he  would  say  when  Oscar  met  Helga 
and  he  came  face  to  face  with  them.  He  would  say,  "  I 
loved  your  wife — I'm  not  ashamed  to  say  so — I  loved  her  and 
gave  her  up  to  you  and  you  promised  to  cherish  her,  but  you 
neglected  her  and  allowed  her  child  to  be  stolen  away.  I 
would  have  given  my  heart's  blood  to  make  her  happy,  but 
you  made  her  miserable  and  now  she  is  dead,  and  you  are 
here  with  this  woman  who  helped  to  torture  her.  You  are 
a  perjurer  and  a  forger  and  a  scoundrel  and  you  may  take 
that — and  that — and  that — and  carry  the  mark  of  my  hand 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  233 

on  your  face  when  you  go  where  this  wanton  means  to  fol- 
low you !  " 

He  was  now  outside  the  town,  but  he  could  not  see  or  hear 
or  think  like  a  Christian  man,  and  was  merely  ranging  along 
the  road  like  a  beast.  Then  all  at  once,  in  the  still  air  and 
the  silence  of  all  around  him,  he  heard  the  voice  of  some  one 
who  was  saying  in  low,  quivering,  pleading  tones : 

"  My  darling !     My  darling !  " 

Magnus  knew  whose  voice  it  was!  He  thought  he  also 
knew  what  sight  he  should  see  a  moment  later.  It  would 
be  Oscar  and  Helga  locked  in  each  other's  arms  as  they  had 
been  when  he  saw  them  last  in  the  dance  at  the  farm — 
flushed,  hot  and  excited. 

With  his  fists  clinched  and  his  teeth  set  hard,  he  plunged 
through  a  gate  that  was  like  the  gate  to  a  garden,  and  then 
ran  forward  a  few  paces.  But  he  drew  up  suddenly,  as  if  an 
unseen  hand  had  seized  his  arm.  He  saw  where  he  was, 
and  his  breath  seemed  to  leave  him — he  was  in  the  cemeteiy, 
and  some  twenty  yards  farther  down  the  path  his  brother 
Oscar  was  kneeling  by  the  side  of  a  grave  and  sobbing  as  if 
his  heart  would  break. 

Magnus  stumbled  back  to  the  road,  sobered,  ashamed  and 
broken  into  utter  helplessness. 

It  might  be  the  devil's  own  world,  but  God  was  in  it  also. 


XVI 

"When  the  last  of  the  "  Laura's  "  three  bells  were  ringing, 
Magnus  stood  alone  on  the  little  wooden  jetty  going  down 
to  the  bay.  The  whistle  screamed  in  the  steam-pipe,  the 
anchor-chain  rattled  in  the  hawse-holes,  and  the  steamer 
turned  her  head  to  the  sea. 

Then  a  row-boat  came  back  from  the  vessel's  side,  bring- 
ing an  elderly  lady  who  was  trying  to  hide  her  tear-stained 
face  from  the  gaze  of  the  boatmen  and  even  the  eyes  of  the 
night,  behind  the  folds  of  a  little  lace  shawl  which  she  wore 
over  her  hufa.  It  was  Anna,  and  as  Magnus  helped  her 
ashore,  she  said: 

"  Give  me  your  arm  and  take  me  home — I'm  not  feeling 
well  to-night,  Magnus." 
16 


234  THE    PEODIGAL    SON 

But  before  they  had  gone  matiy  paces  she  stopped  and 
looked  back  lovingly  at  the  ship  that  was  now  steaming  dov.-n 
the  fiord,  and  said  in  a  pitiful  voice : 

"  He  is  gone  and  I  have  lost  him !  My  poor  boy !  My  poor 
Oscar!  I  had  him  for  six  and  twenty  years  and  to  think  it 
should  come  to  this !  " 

She  walked  a  few  more  paces  and  then  looked  back  again, 
and  said : 

"  I  have  never  seen  anybody  so  deeply  affected.  '  Oh, 
mother,  mother! '  he  cried  at  last — just  like  a  child.  I  could 
have  fancied  the  years  had  rolled  back  and  he  was  still  a  boy 
— feeling  ill  and  helpless  and  wanting  to  lie  in  his  mother's 
lap." 

Again  she  walked  a  few  steps  and  looked  back  as  before. 

"  There  was  nobody  to  see  him  off — nobody  at  all.  The 
story  must  have  leaked  out  somewhere,  and  of  all  the  people 
he  used  to  call  his  friends  there  was  not  one  to  say  farewell. 
My  poor  boy!  My  poor  Oscar!  He  did  wrong — very  wrong 
— but  God  knows  how  he  is  suffering.  We  think  we  punish 
people  when  we  put  them  in  prison,  but  what  punishment 
is  like  the  pain  of  an  awakened  conscience?  And  Oscar  is 
leaving  everything  behind  him — everything  and  everybody — 
and  going  away  in  disgrace." 

Once  more  she  walked  a  few  steps  and  then  she  said  in  the 
voice  of  a  crying  child : 

"  I  shall  never  see  him  again.  I  pretended  I  should,  but 
I  know  quite  well  I  shall  not.  '  Some  day  you  will  come 
back,'  I  said,  '  and  make  amends  and  wipe  out  everything.' 
And  he  said  *  Yes '  and  '  Yes,'  but  we  both  knew  well  it 
wasn't  true.  When  the  bell  rang  and  I  had  to  come  away  he 
said,  '  Mother,  you've  been  the  best  mother  a  man  ever  had,' 
and  I  knew  it  was  the  last  word  I  shall  ever  hear  from  him." 

After  that  she  could  not  speak  for  some  minutes  and  then 
she  said,  as  if  trying  to  comfort  herself: 

"  Perhaps  God  will  give  my  boy  another  chance  where  he 
is  going  to.    If  so  I  think  he  will  do  better,  but  if  not " 

She  could  not  finish  what  she  intended  to  say — that  God's 
mercy  was  more  terrible  than  the  vengeance  of  man,  and  he 
who  renounced  it  would  surely  be  destroyed. 

They  walked  on  in  silence  until  they  came  to  the  gate  of 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  235 

Government  House,  and  then  Anna  took  her  last  look  at 
the  dark  ship  that  was  dying  away  to  an  indistinguishable 
mass  in  the  shades  of  night  and  the  mists  of  her  blinding 
tears,  and  said  in  a  brave  voice : 

"  We  must  be  very  good  to  each  other  in  future,  Magnus. 
You  are  the  only  son  left  to  me  now,  and  if  you  have  to 
suffer  for  the  sin  of  somebody  else  you  must  let  me  help  you 
to  bear  it.  I  will  always  do  so  as  long  as  I  live,  Magnus,  and 
when  I  am  gone  from  you  God  will  not  forget.  Good-night, 
Magnus !     And  God  bless  you !  " 

Magnus  stood  for  some  time  where  his  mother  had  left 
him,  for  the  breakers  of  passion  were  still  surging  in  his 
throat.  Then  he  returned  to  the  jetty  and  dropped  the  re- 
mains of  Helga's  letter  into  the  sea,  and  they  went  out  with 
the  ebbing  tide. 


PART  V 


•*  Indeed^  indeed,  repentance  oft  before 
I  swore — but  was  1  sober  when  1  swore  f 
And  then,  and  then  came  Spriyig,  and  rose^n-hani 
My  threadbare  penitence  apieces  tore." 


Above  all  other  cities  of  the  world,  London  is  the  home 
of  the  outcast,  the  refuge  of  the  disgraced  and  rejected,  the 
asylum  of  the  moral  leper,  the  grave  of  the  moral  suicide. 
She  offers  him  obscurity  and  a  kind  of  cleansing  if  he  vt^ill 
cast  himself  into  the  rolling  billows  of  her  six  millions  of 
people,  and  she  keeps  her  word  but  exacts  her  penalties.  Her 
penalties  are  homelessness,  f  riendlessness,  and  loneliness,  but 
above  all  loneliness.  There  is  no  loneliness  like  that  of  Lon- 
don. The  loneliness  of  an  open  boat  on  an  open  sea  in  an 
impenetrable  fog,  or  the  loneliness  of  a  trackless  heath  in  a 
blinding  snowstorm,  is  not  so  desolating  to  the  human  soul 
as  the  loneliness  of  London's  crowded  thoroughfares,  with 
their  lines  of  unknown  faces  filing  on  and  on. 

Within  a  year  Oscar  Stephenson  knew  the  loneliness  of 
London  to  its  last  pang,  its  utmost  bitterness. 

When  he  parted  from  his  mother  on  the  deck  of  the 
"  Laura "  she  slipped  a  purse  into  his  pocket,  just  as  she 
used  to  do  when  he  was  a  boy  going  to  college  or  going 
away  for  his  holiday.  The  purse  contained  gold  and  notes 
to  the  value  of  fifty  pounds,  and  this,  with  the  little  he 
had  of  his  own,  was  the  whole  sum  of  his  fortune  and  all 
he  had  to  face  the  future  with.  He  was  not  so  young  as  to 
think  it  inexhaustible,  or  so  sanguine  as  to  expect  the  world 
to  fall  at  the  feet  of  a  fallen  man,  so  he  tried  to  be  frugal 
and  to  spend  his  substance  prudently. 

He  spent  his  first  night  in  London  at  the  hotel  in  Tra- 
^  lalgar  Square  at  which  he  had  stayed  with  Thora  and  Helga 
230 


k  THE    TRODIGAL    SON  237 

o»  cheir  way  to  Italy,  but  besides  being  too  expensive  for 
hi?  -present  means  the  place  was  too  full  of  tragic  memories, 
anti  next  day  he  removed  to  a  house  in  one  of  the  first  of 
the  side  streets  going  down  to  the  river  from  the  Strand.  His 
lodging  was  a  single  room  on  an  upper  floor,  having  a  stuffy 
odor  of  carpets  and  curtains  and  a  prospect  of  the  neigh- 
boring roofs  with  various  causeways  of  red  chimney-pots. 

In  this  apartment  Oscar  Stephenson  had  his  first  experi- 
ence of  the  loneliness  of  London.  He  lived  there  six  months 
without  seeing  any  face  belonging  to  the  house  except  the 
face  of  his  landlady,  and  without  knowing  more  about  his 
fellow-lodgers  than  that  his  neighbor  in  the  adjoining  room 
never  returned  home  at  night  until  after  the  great  clock 
at  Westminster  had  struck  twelve,  and  that  he  whistled  "  On- 
ward, Christian  Soldiers  "  in  varying  degrees  of  alcoholic 
uncertainty  while  he  put  himself  to  bed. 

Before  the  end  of  those  six  months  Oscar  was  in  debt  to 
his  landlady,  he  had  no  regular  employment  and  no  prospect 
except  the  imminent  one  of  being  homeless  and  penniless. 

By  what  stages  of  quick  descent  he  came  down  to  this 
condition  it  would  be  a  needless  task  to  tell.  His  story  is 
that  of  the  great  army  of  the  disgraced  and  the  castaway 
who  fly  to  London  as  to  a  sanctuary  and  are  allowed  to  live 
only  by  lying  at  its  doors.  He  had  struggled  and  failed. 
He  was  young  and  active,  but  nobody  needed  him.  In  some 
places  his  want  of  references  was  a  difficulty.  In  others  his 
superior  education  was  a  cause  of  suspicion.  He  was  too 
good  for  one  post  and  not  good  enough  for  another.  In  a 
world  full  of  work  there  was  no  work  for  him  to  do. 

The  slow  agony  of  those  first  six  months  kept  alive  the 
shame  and  misery  of  his  breakdown  and  nearly  sapped  his 
moral  courage.  As  day  followed  day  and  the  feeling  of  use- 
lessness  deepened,  he  felt  like  a  boy,  a  friendless,  abandoned 
boy.  He  had  done  wrong  and  he  was  ready  to  bear  his  pun- 
ishment, but  the  great,  irresistible,  unanswerable  world  was 
using  him  cruelly.  It  would  not  make  peace  with  him  on 
any  terms.  It  was  leaving  him  without  hope,  or  counsel 
or  encouragement  or  consolation — it  was  leaving  him  alone. 
This  sense  of  being  of  no  account,  of  being  nothing  and  no- 
body in  the  world,  with  the  terror  of  sinking  out  of  sight 


238  THE    PRODIGAL    SON  ^ 

some  day  and  nobody  knowing  or  caring,  was  harder  to  bear 
than  poverty  or  even  shame  itself. 

When  the  clouds  looked  blackest  he  swallowed  the  last 
remnant  of  his  pride  and  appealed  to  the  few  friends  of  his 
father  in  England  who  had  been  so  good  to  him  in  the  care- 
less days  of  his  college  life  and  so  boundlessly  hospitable 
in  the  happy  time  of  his  honeymoon.  He  appealed  to  the 
professor  at  Oxford,  making  a  clean  breast  of  his  misdoings 
and  no  concealment  of  his  sufferings  and  asking  for  influence 
and  assistance  in  obtaining  a  sub-librarianship  or  such  other 
employment  as  might  provide  him  with  bread  and  butter, 
and  the  answer  that  came  back  was  prompt  and  courteous 
but  as  cold  as  the  breath  of  an  iceberg. 

He  appealed  to  the  banker  in  London,  asking  for  a  junior 
clerkship,  or  a  position  as  messenger  or  even  porter,  and 
the  reply  he  received  was  as  smooth  as  a  dog's  tongue  and 
as  useless  for  help  and  healing.  And  then  he  knew  by  bitter 
knowledge  that  the  kindness  which  had  been  shown  to  him 
in  the  better  time  was  kindness  to  his  father's  son,  and  that 
he  had  wasted  that  heritage  and  was  his  father's  son  no 
more. 

Meantime  he  spent  his  days,  and  a  great  part  of  his  nights 
also,  in  the  streets.  There  he  was  like  a  piece  of  helpless 
driftwood  in  the  roaring  current  of  life,  always  going  on 
yet  never  going  anywhere,  always  floating  along  yet  never 
making  headway.  The  ceaseless  stream  in  the  busy  thorough- 
fares tormented  him  terribly,  but  the  emptiness  of  the  ob- 
scurer streets  tortured  him  still  more,  and  the  blankness  of 
Sunday  morning  in  the  Strand  afflicted  him  most  keenly 
of  all,  for  it  was  full  of  memories  of  Sunday  morning  in 
Iceland  with  its  atmosphere  of  peace  and  rest  and  the  sound 
of  church  bells. 

When  he  was  at  his  lowest  depths  of  hopelessness  he  sent 
his  first  letter  home. 

"  Dearest  Mother,"  he  wrote,  sitting  in  his  stuffy  back 
room  overlooking  the  roof-tops,  "You  would  naturally  have 
expected  to  hear  from  me  before  this,  and  I  certainly  should 
have  written  earlier,  only  that  I  have  been  waiting  for  a 
long,  quiet  hour  in  which  I  could  tell  you  all  the  news,  every- 
thing that  has  happened  to  me  since  we  parted  on  the  steamer 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  239 

and  I  saw  your  dear  face  disappearing  in  the  boat.  That 
houi'  seems  never  to  come,  so  I  must  snatch  a  few  moments 
without  any  more  delay  to  say  that  all  is  well  and  everything 
goes  swimmingly." 

"  The  dear  old  soul,  why  should  I  make  her  miserable  ?  " 
he  thought. 

"  You  will  easily  understand  that  in  a  great  city  like  Lon- 
don, especially  when  one  is  beginning  again  and  one  has  so 
much  to  do  and  so  many  people  to  see,  there  is  not  an  hour 
left  for  oneself  and  hardly  a  moment  to  write  a  letter.  But 
this  does  not  prevent  my  thinking  of  you  at  all  events,  and 
I  do  so  every  day  and  always." 

"  That's  true  at  least,"  he  told  himself,  and  he  went  on 
boldly  with  his  affectionate  fictions. 

"  I  know  that  my  dear  little  mamma  will  want  to  know  first 
the  condition  of  my  creature  comforts  and  I  hasten  to  tell 
her  that  these  are  as  right  as  can  be.  This  is  a  large  and 
handsome  house  just  off  the  tide  of  greatest  traffic  where 
splendid  horse  wagons  (called  omnibuses)  and  upholstered 
sleighs  on  wheels  (called  hansoms)  roll  about  in  countless 
numbers  day  and  night,  making  a  roar  like  that  of  the  Ellida 
river  where  it  falls  into  the  fiord.  But  my  bedroom,  in  which 
I  am  writing  this  letter,  is  quiet  and  cozy  and  homelike,  and 
my  landlady  is  a  good  little  creature  who  visits  me  daily 
and  is  always  most  kind  and  motherly." 

As  he  went  on  his  pen  flowed  freely  and  his  handwriting 
became  big  and  reckless. 

"  I  am  making  new  and  influential  acquaintances  every 
day,  and  seeing  in  the  flesh  the  faces  we  are  all  familiar  with 
in  prints.  Walking  in  the  Park  yesterday  I  passed  the  Queen, 
who  is  one  of  our  own  princesses,  you  know,  so  I  felt  myself 
entitled  to  bow  to  her  and  she  bowed  back  with  the  sweetest 
courtesy.  I  see  the  Prime  Minister  frequently,  for  he  lives 
in  a  house  that  is  only  down  the  street  and  round  the  corner, 
and  the  homes  and  offices  of  nearly  all  the  Ministers  of  State 
are  within  a  stone's  throw  of  this  place.  In  fact  one  way 
or  another  I  am  certainly  coming  in  touch  with  the  leading 
men  in  England,  and  when  I  open  my  window  at  night  I  can 
see  the  light  that  burns  in  the  clock-tower  above  the  Houses 
of  Parliament. 


240  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  So  you  see  that  I  am  finding  life  wonderfully  interesting 
in  this  mighty  maelstrom  of  human  activity,  and  if  I  do  not 
■write  as  often  as  I  ought,  my  anxious  little  mamma  is  not 
to  imagine  there  is  anything  amiss  with  me,  but  merely  to 
tell  herself  that  no  news  is  good  news  and  that  I  am  im- 
mersed in  many  occupations. 

"  Perhaps  if  I  have  a  lonely  hour  occasionally  " — the  pen 
trembled  in  his  fingers  and  the  handwriting  became  loose  and 
shaky — "  it  is  when  I  think  about  home  and  wonder  what  is 
happening  there  and  what  people  are  saying  about  me  now. 
I  suppose  I  have  no  right  to  complain  whatever  it  may  be, 
but  sometimes  when  I  am  coming  back  to  my  lodging  on  a 
starry  night  after  a  tiring  day  and  I  look  up  to  the  Milky 
Way  and  think,  *  That  is  the  road  to  my  country,'  the 
thought  goes  to  my  heart  like  a  stab  that  when  I  left  it  last 
my  father's  door  was  closed  against  me,  and  I  saw  nothing 
of  Magnus  at  the  end. 

"  How  are  they  both,  and  how  are  j'ou,  and  how  are  the 
Factor  and  Aunt  Margret,  and  how — oh !  how  is  our  dear 
little  Elin  ?  My  sweet,  sweet  child !  What  I  would  give  to  see 
her  again!  Has  she  grown?  Is  she  still  as  much  like  her 
poor  mother  ?  Docs  she  *  notice  ? '  She  will  begin  to  babble 
and  talk  by  and  by.  Will  they  bring  her  up  to  know  noth- 
ing about  her  father?  Or  perhaps  to  think  ill  of  him?  If 
I  return  to  Iceland  some  day  (and  I  shall)  to  take  up  the 
broken  threads  of  my  life  again,  and  find  that  the  mind  of 
my  own  child  has  been  poisoned  against  me,  I  don't  know 
what  will  happen;  I  believe  I  shall  go  back  instantly  and 
wipe  myself  out  for  ever. 

"  But  I  will  not  think  of  that  even  as  a  remote  possibility, 
and,  meantime,  I  am  working  day  and  night  to  build  up  a 
new  career,  and,  as  you  see,  I  am  getting  on  splendidly.  So 
good-by,  dearest,  and  God  bless  you,  and  God  bless  every- 
body at  home,  for  we  shall  all  be  good  friends  yet. — Oscar. 

"  P.  S. — Is  Helga  still  in  Iceland,  or  has  the  Factor  carried 
out  his  threat  of  sending  her  back  to  Denmark?  I  suppose 
I  ought  not  to  think  of  her,  having  given  that  promise  to 
the  Governor,  yet  I  can  not  help  doing  so,  and  I  can  not  help 
asking." 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  241 


n 

It  was  the  time  when  a  young  English  composer  was  creat- 
ing some  sensation  by  writing  an  opera  on  the  subject  of 
"  King  Olaf."  The  theme  was  one  which  Oscar  had  often 
proposed  to  himself,  and  raised  his  fancy  and  emulation 
upon,  in  the  delirious  days  when  he  had  hoped  to  become 
a  musician,  and  the  dazzling  di'eams  of  glory  were  not  yet 
so  dead  that  he  could  restrain  himself  from  rambling  up  to 
Covent  Garden  on  the  night  of  the  first  performance. 

He  knew  he  was  penniless  and  he  was  conscious  that  his 
clothes  were  shabby  and  his  shoes  in  a  woful  condition  as 
he  lounged  by  the  arches  and  watched  the  audience  assemble. 
The  carriages  were  rolling  up  and  discharging  their  occu- 
pants— the  Queen  and  her  ladies,  the  Prime  Minister  and 
finally  the  King — and  he  was  turning  away  feeling  more  mis- 
erable and  destitute  than  ever,  when  a  hand  touched  him 
on  the  shoulder  and  a  familiar  voice  at  his  side  said  cheerily, 

"  Helloa !    Can  it  be  possible  ?  " 

It  was  !N^eils  Finsen,  his  former  schoolfellow  and  com- 
panion, fresh  and  bright  in  evening  dress  under  a  handsome 
fur-lined  overcoat. 

"  Heard  you  were  in  London,  but  didn't  know  where  to 
find  you.  Want  to  see  you  irmnediately,  old  fellow.  Where 
do  you  stay  ?  " 

As  soon  as  he  had  got  rid  of  a  stifling  sensation  in  the 
throat  Oscar  answered  him,  and  then  Finsen  said, 

"  Should  I  call  upon  you  there,  or  would  you  prefer  to 
come  here  to  me  ?  " 

"  I  will  come  to  you,"  said  Oscar. 

"Good!  When  shall  it  be?  Will  to-morrow  at  twelve  be 
convenient  ? " 

"  Any  time  will  be  convenient  to  me." 

"  Happy  man !  Twelve  to-morrow  in  my  office,  then.  Glad 
to  have  found  you  at  last.  Thought  you  might  have  looked 
me  up  and  wondered  what  on  earth  had  become  of  you. 
Good-by!  Busy  to-night  and  enough  work  for  a  regi- 
ment. By  the  way,  if  you  would  like  to  see  the  perform- 
ance— can't  promise  you  a  seat,  but  if  you  would  care  to 


242  THE    TRODIGAL    SON 

stand  at  the  back  of  the  balcony —  You  would  ?  Come  this 
■way —  Johnson !  Take  this  gentleman  in  front  and  give 
him  anything  you  have  left.    By-by !  " 

Before  Oscar  had  quite  recovered  his  breath,  he  was  sit- 
ting in  the  half-light  at  the  back  of  the  upper  circle,  feel- 
ing miserably  humiliated  and  ashamed,  yet  tingling  with  a 
strange  excitement.  Pie  never  quite  knew  what  happened 
thereafter.  He  forgot  that  his  monej'  was  all  gone,  that  he 
had  not  eaten  since  morning,  that  his  trousers  were  frayed 
at  the  bottom  and  his  shoes  down  at  the  heels.  He  only  felt 
that  out  of  the  sordid  conditions  of  the  past  six  months  he 
had  suddenly  emerged  into  an  atmosphere  that  was  as  the 
vivid  breath  of  his  soul. 

When  the  conductor  entered — it  was  the  young  composer 
himself — Oscar  craned  forward  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
man  who  was  on  the  eve  of  snatching  the  triumph  which 
but  for  the  hard  buffetings  of  fate  might  perhaps  have  been 
his  own,  and  when  the  opera  began  he  listened  with  every 
faculty.  It  was  good,  it  was  human,  it  was  modern,  its  har- 
mony was  exquisite,  its  orchestration  sure,  its  form  showed 
mastery  of  the  mystery  of  music,  and  yet  it  lacked  something. 
What  did  it  lack?  It  lacked  the  life-blood  of  the  stern  old 
Northland.  The  Englishman  could  not  give  it  that,  for  the 
root  of  the  matter  was  not  in  him.  But  he  could  have  done 
so,  for  his  blood  was  the  blood  of  the  Vikings,  the  blood 
of  Flosi  and  Snorri  and  Eric  and  Olaf  and  all  the  mighty 
men  of  old. 

Oscar  did  not  hear  his  fellow-lodger  go  to  bed  that  night, 
with  his  lunging  step  on  the  stairs  and  his  drunken  whistling 
of  "  Onward,  Christian  Soldiers,"  and  next  morning  when 
his  landlady  came  up  to  speak  to  him,  according  to  her  wont, 
he  was  hardly  conscious  of  what  she  said  except  that  it  was 
some  protest,  some  threat,  and  that  he  did  not  feel  it  worth 
while  to  soften  and  sweeten  her  with  such  promises  as  he 
had  made  before. 

The  intoxication  of  last  night  was  still  upon  him  when 
he  set  out  to  keep  his  appointment.  Music  was  calling  to 
him  again,  calling  him  like  a  siren,  out  of  his  friendlessness 
and  loneliness,  his  humiliation  and  obscurity,  his  poverty  and 
Bhame,  out  of  the  pitiless  cruelty  of  crowded  thoroughfares 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  243 

and  the  grimy  sordidness  of  obscure  streets,  into  the  glory 
of  success  and  fame. 

"  Come  in,  old  fellow,"  cried  the  familiar  voice  of  yester- 
day, and  Oscar  found  himself  in  Finsen's  office. 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  Finsen,  removing  a  pair  of  pince-nez, 
"  how  long  have  you  been  in  London  ?  " 

"  Sis  months — nearly  seven,"  said  Oscar. 

"  And  what  have  you  been  doing  ?  " 

"  Nothing." 

"  Lucky  chap !    Nothing  at  all  ?  " 

"  Yes,  there  is  one  thing  I've  been  doing — I've  been  doing 
it  rather  industriously." 

"What's  that?" 

"  Starving." 

Finsen  laughed  loud,  but  Oscar  laughed  louder — he  had 
not  yet  broken  his  fast. 

"  We  all  go  through  it  at  some  time,"  said  Finsen,  "  and 
it's  best  to  get  it  over  at  the  beginning.  So  I  congratulate 
you,  old  fellow,  and  now  to  business.  I'm  managing  here — 
managing  for  a  syndicate.  Under  four  eyes,  as  we  say  in 
Iceland,  I  intend  to  give  a  series  of  concerts  and  I'm  looking 
out  for  fresh  material.    You  compose  ?  " 

"  Used  to  do,"  said  Oscar. 

"  I  understand,"  said  Finsen.  "  Your  life  has  been  off  the 
tracks  lately  and  you'll  not  write  much  more  that's  worth 
anything  until  you  get  back  into  the  groove.  But  I  know 
what  you  used  to  do  and  that's  good  enough  for  me.  I  heard 
some  of  your  songs  from  the  Sagas,  you  remember,  and  I 
don't  mind  saying  that  as  the  work  of  a  man  who  was  nearly 
self -taught  in  the  matter  of  harmony  I  thought  them  wonder- 
ful. But  Helga  tells  me — Helga  Neilsen,  I  mean,  I  hear  from 
her  occasionally " 

Oscar  flinched  as  if  a  lash  had  cut  him. 

"  Helga  tells  me,"  continued  Finsen,  "  that  you  did  some 
things  in  Iceland  last  year  that  beat  your  Saga  songs  to 
little  bits,  and  if  you  think  we  can  try  them  here " 

"  They're  gone,"  said  Oscar. 

"  I  know,"  said  Finsen.  "  I've  heard  what  has  become  of 
them.    But  perhaps  you  have  copies  ?  " 

"  Not  a  copy,"  said  Oscar. 


244  THE    TRODIGAL    SON 

"  Or  perhaps  you  can  remember  some  of  them! " 

"Not  one." 

"  Even  so,  the  case  is  not  quite  hopeless.  You  are  a  per- 
son of  some  influence  in  Iceland  ?  " 

"  Used  to  be,"  said  Oscar. 

"  Well,  I  presume  to  think  I  am — my  father  is  Sheriff 
and  likely  to  be  something  better — so  if  you  care  to  give 
your  consent  we  may  recover  the  things  still." 

A  mist  arose  between  Oscar's  eyes  and  Finsen's  face. 
"  You  surely  do  not  mean ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  do.  If  the  things  are  half  as  good  as  Helga 
says,  they're  worth  all  the  trouble.  Anyhow,  I'm  willing  to 
gamble  on  her  judgment,  to  give  you  something  to  go  on 
with,  and  when  the  stuff  comes  to  devote  a  morning  to  try- 
ing it  with  the  orchestra,  and  ask  you  to  conduct  the  re- 
hearsal." 

Finsen's  figure  was  floating  in  the  mist  that  was  between 
it  and  Oscar's  eyes. 

"  You  wish  me  to  authorize  you  to  exhume " 

"  Why  not  ?  It's  not  an  unheard  of  proceeding.  And  if 
ever  there  was  a  moment  that  justified  it  it's  now.  If  com- 
positions that  might  give  pleasure  to  the  world  and  make 
pots  of  money  are  lying  buried  in  a  grave " 

"  I'll  starve  first,"  said  Oscar,  rising  from  his  seat. 

"  My  dear  chap,"  said  Finsen,  putting  back  his  pinoe-nez, 
"you  tell  me  you're  doing  that  already.  But  here's  your 
chance  of  doing  it  no  more,  and  if " 

"I'll  starve  to  death  first,"  said  Oscar,  turning  to  the 
door. 

"  I^onsense,  old  fellow !  If  the  things  were  doing  any 
good  where  they  are  I  could  respect  your  feelings.  But 
they're  not.  They  are  merely  rotting  away  and  they  will 
soon  disappear  altogether.  What  your  object  was  in  bury-» 
ing  them  you  know  best — I  confess  I  thought  it  very  quixotic 
— but  whatever  it  was  it  has  served  its  purpose.  And  now 
there  they  lie — works  of  genius,  as  I'm  willing  to  believe — 
that  might  possibly  make  your  name  and  begin  to  make 
your  fortune,  while  you " 

"  I'll  die  in  a  ditch  rather  than  touch  them,"  said  Oscar, 
and  without  a  word  of  farewell  he  flung  out  of  the  room. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  245 

!N'o  words  could  describe  the  agony  he  endured  during  the 
remaining  hours  of  that  day.  The  intoxication  of  the  night 
before  was  gone  by  this  time  and  he  suffered  the  pains  of 
the  spirit  that  has  buoyed  itself  up  on  a  bankrupt  hope. 
If  he  had  ever  had  any  uncertainty  about  the  meaning  of  the 
blind  impulse  of  remorse  which  had  prompted  him  to  bury  his 
compositions  in  his  wife's  grave  he  had  none  now.  It  was 
God's  own  punishment  to  shut  up  the  only  channel  to  fame 
and  success,  nay  to  livelihood  itself,  as  by  the  door  of  a 
tomb. 

Hour  after  hour  he  walked  the  streets,  feeling  that  escape 
from  the  way  of  life  he  had  been  living  was  now  utterly 
hopeless.  He  would  go  down  and  down,  day  by  day,  little  by 
little,  until  he  was  submerged  beneath  the  flood,  or  became, 
but  for  the  mercy  of  God,  a  vagabond  and  a  castaway. 

It  was  long  before  he  could  bring  himself  to  go  back  to 
his  lodging  and  when  he  did  so  he  found  that  the  street 
door  would  not  open  to  the  key  he  carried  in  his  pocket. 
He  rang  the  bell  and  a  little  maid-of-all-work  came  up  as 
from  her  bedroom  below  stairs  with  curl  papers  in  her  hair 
and  some  loose  clothes  about  her  body. 

"  Why  did  you  bolt  the  door,  my  child  ?  "  he  said.  "  Didn't 
you  know  that  I  had  not  come  home  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  but  mistress  told  me  to  tell  you  as  how  your 
room  has  been  let  and  you  can  have  your  trunks  when  you 
pay  what  you  owes  her." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  I  am  to  be  turned  out  ? " 

"  It  ain't  my  fault,  sir,  and  I'm  very  sorry." 

Oscar  and  the  girl  stood  looking  vacantly  at  each  other 
for  a  moment,  and  then  he  turned  away  and  walked  up  the 
street  with  a  new  sensation — the  blank,  desolating  sensa- 
tion of  not  having  a  roof  over  his  head.  No  one  knows  what 
it  means  to  be  one  night  homeless  in  a  great  city  except 
those  who  have  gone  through  it.  It  is  not  so  much  the 
poverty  of  privation  that  is  hard  to  bear  as  the  sense  of  utter 
worthlessness,  of  being  less  to  the  world  than  its  dogs,  for 
they  are  cared  for,  or  its  horses  for  they  are  housed. 

His  money  was  gone,  and  he  had  no  luggage  in  his  hands 
to  make  shift  to  find  another  lodging  with,  so  he  walked 
©n  and  on,  up  Lower  Regent  Street  and  across  Piccadilly, 


246  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

througli  noisy  throngs  of  people — young  women  smoking 
cigarettes,  young  men  laughing  and  singing  and  a  bedraggled 
girl  being  lugged  along  by  a  policeman — on  and  on  until 
he  came  to  a  wide  and  quiet  thoroughfare  where  a  line  of 
broughams  waited  outside  a  house  that  was  brilliantly  lighted 
up,  and  there  he  paused  in  his  aimless  perambulation  to  listen 
to  the  music  that  was  coming  through  the  open  windows. 

He  had  been  asking  himself  for  the  hundredth  time  how 
it  had  come  to  pass  that  he,  so  lately  the  pampered  son  of 
his  father — who  was  the  Governor  of  his  people  and  their 
upright  judge — was  tramping  the  streets  of  London  without 
a  penny  in  his  pocket  or  a  roof  to  cover  him,  when  the  door 
opened  and  an  elderly  gentleman  came  out  bare-headed  to 
escort  some  ladies  to  their  carriage.  Then  his  stunned  facul- 
ties awoke  and  he  saw  where  he  was  standing.  He  was  out- 
side the  house  of  his  father's  friend,  the  banker.  The  deep 
remembrance  came  back  to  him  of  the  time,  so  near  yet  so 
far  away,  when  he  himself,  with  Thora  and  Helga,  had  been 
honored  guests  in  that  house,  and  lest  the  banker  should  see 
him,  the  wayfarer  he  then  was,  skulking  there  at  that  un- 
timely hour,  he  turned  about  and  walked  quickly  awaj'. 

Nothing  that  had  happened  on  that  evil  night  had  wounded 
his  feelings  so  acutely,  or  made  him  feel  so  surely  that  rescue 
from  his  accursed  condition  there  could  be  none.  Was  it  to 
be  a  part  of  his  punishment  that  even  when  his  senses  slept 
he  was  to  be  constantly  brought  up  against  himself  and  re- 
minded of  the  days  that  were  dead  ?  If  so,  life  would  be  im- 
endurable,  and  existence  an  everlasting  hell.  Did  Nature 
never  forget  ?    Did  God  never  forgive  ? 

Half  an  hour  afterward  he  was  walking  along  the  Em- 
bankment, past  the  «rouching  and  sleeping  forms  of  the 
sordid  things  whom  the  city  casts  out  on  to  the  river's  bank 
by  night;  and  looking  wildly  at  the  waters  of  the  Thames, 
glistening  and  glimmering  under  the  electric  light,  he  asked 
himself  why  he  should  not  end  it  all  and  have  done  with 
further  torture. 

What  was  the  thought  that  restrained  him?  Was  it  the 
thought  of  his  dead  wife  whose  memory  was  to  be  a  safe- 
guard against  sin  and  a  perpetual  inspiration?    No! 

By  the  inscrutable  will  of  fate  it  was  the  thought  of  the 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  247 

one  being  -whose  love  had  -wrecked  him — it  -was  the  thought 
of  Helga.  In  spite  of  the  pledge  he  had  given  to  the  Gov- 
ernor, he  could  not  help  thinking  of  her,  No  day  had  been 
so  dark  but  he  had  thought  of  her  on  going  to  bed  at  night 
and  on  awakening  in  the  morning.  She  -was  gone,  they  might 
never  meet  again,  their  love  was  a  page  of  his  life  which 
he  had  crossed  out  and  turned  down  for  ever,  yet  her  eyes  were 
in  his  eyes  and  her  smile  was  the  only  sunshine  that  shone 
upon  his  face. 

The  thought  of  Thora  was  a  sweet  and  sacred  thing  which 
he  had  wrapped  up  and  laid  by  in  the  lavender  of  memory, 
but  the  thought  of  Helga  was  warm  and  alive  and  always 
with  him.  It  was  with  him  now,  and  it  saved  his  soul  from 
despair  and  his  body  from  death. 


in 

Before  Oscar's  letter  reached  Iceland  many  changes  had 
taken  place  there.  The  estrangement  of  the  Governor  and 
the  Factor  had  developed  into  open  antagonism.  Everybody 
knew  of  it  and  the  enemies  of  each  had  been  playing  upon 
his  hatred  of  the  other. 

The  Factor  was  the  first  to  suffer.  The  do-wnfall  of  the 
barter  trade,  which  Magnus  predicted,  had  already  come  to 
pass,  and  the  Factor's  business  had  tumbled  to  pieces  like 
an  unbound  faggot.  There  is  always  a  good  reason  to  kill 
a  fat  ox,  and  while  people  said,  "  The  Factor  gives  the  farmers 
vhat  he  likes  for  his  wool  and  charges  them  what  he  pleases 
for  foreign  produce,"  the  true  ground  of  the  attack  upon 
his  business  had  been  his  intimidation  of  the  town  at  the 
time  of  Oscar's  election. 

Oddsson,  the  defeated  candidate  of  that  day,  never  rested 
until  he  had  established  a  company  on  the  cash  principle. 
Even  then  the  Factor  would  have  borne  down  all  opposition, 
for  the  Factor  was  rich  while  the  fanners  were  poor,  but 
Oddsson  had  secured  an  ally  in  the  most  powerful  person. 
As  the  smith  uses  the  tongs  to  spare  his  fingers,  so  Oddsson 
had  used  the  Governor  to  save  his  company. 

The  Governor  knew  full  well  that  Oddsson  was  his  enemy. 


248  THE    PRODIGAL    SOH 

and  that  if  his  party  got  the  upper  hand  they  would  upset 
the  old  order,  but  he  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  join 
him  when  he  was  trying  to  destroy  the  Factor.  By  his  help 
the  preferential  tariff  with  Denmark  was  broken  down  and 
the  Iceland  markets  were  opened  to  English  produce,  and  that 
was  the  death-blow  to  the  barter  business. 

For  three  months  the  Factor  kept  his  doors  open  by  sell- 
ing at  less  than  cost  price  and  buying  at  more  than  market 
value,  but  the  end  was  sure.  It  was  whispered  at  the  bank 
that  he  was  parting  with  his  securities  in  stocks  and  shares 
and  his  estate  in  land  and  loose  property,  and  that  sooner 
or  later  he  would  come  dowTi  with  a  crash.  Nobody  pitied 
him,  and  at  the  bottom  of  his  tortured  heart  one  man 
rejoiced. 

But  the  smiter  has  often  short  joy  of  his  stroke,  and  when 
Oddsson  and  his  party,  having  done  with  trade,  turned  their 
attention  to  constitutional  subjects  the  Factor,  though  he 
hated  them,  joined  their  agitation.  The  winter  had  been  se- 
vere, there  had  been  many  deaths  among  the  older  members  of 
Parliament  and  as  often  as  a  by-election  had  occurred  th© 
Factor  had  thrown  the  weight  of  his  remaining  influence 
and  the  force  of  his  diminishing  fortunes  into  the  scale  of 
reform.  By  the  end  of  the  spring  it  had  become  certain  that 
the  next  session  of  Althing  would  witness  the  passing  of  a 
bill  for  the  reconstruction  of  the  Constitution  and  the  aboli- 
tion of  the  Governorship. 

Thus  each  of  the  two  men  who  had  stood  shoulder  to  shoul- 
der for  fifty  years  destroyed  himself  in  destroying  the  other, 
and  the  prophecy  of  long  ago  was  fulfilled  that  if  the  Gov- 
ernor and  the  Factor  ever  ceased  to  be  friends  they  would 
become  the  bitterest  of  enemies. 

Meantime  Anna  had  tried  to  make  peace  and  failed.  When 
the  quarrel  was  young,  and  chiefly  about  the  children,  she 
had  attempted  a  tone  of  sympathetic  protest.  "  Come,  come» 
Stephen,  pardon  is  the  best  punishment — ^you  must  make 
peace  with  the  Factor." 

"  He  might  have  saved  my  son  by  the  lifting  of  his  hand 
aod  he  would  not  do  so — I  shall  never  make  peace  with  him," 
said  the  Governor. 

"  Oscar  Neilsen,"  said  Anna,  meeting  the  Factor  in  the 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  249 

street,  "  when  are  you  coming  to  see  Stephen  ?  If  you  stay 
away  much  longer  the  house-dog  will  fly  at  you." 

"  The  house-dog  flew  at  me  when  I  was  there  last,  Anna — 
I  shall  never  trust  him  again,"  said  the  Factor. 

When  the  quarrel  grew  old  and  ugly  and  personal  to  the 
men  themselves,  Anna  thought  of  another  means  of  recon- 
ciliation. The  child  was  the  last  remaining  link  between  the 
Governor  and  the  Factor — it  should  bring  them  together 
again.  "  God  has  always  a  use  for  these  little  angels,"  she 
said. 

Aunt  Margret  joined  in  the  conspiracy  and  the  two  old 
things  concocted  many  schemes — all  simple  and  transparent 
but  womanly  and  good — to  get  the  men  into  the  same  room. 
They  never  succeeded,  but  a  thousand  beams  of  sunshine 
shone  out  of  the  baby's  cradle,  and  little  by  little  the  ice  that 
had  frozen  about  the  men's  souls  was  seen  to  melt. 

When  the  child  was  "  shortened "  it  was  taken  over  to 
Government  House  and  wheeled  in  its  perambulator  into  the 
Governor's  bureau. 

"  Isn't  she  a  beauty,  Stephen  ?  "  said  Anna ;  and  Aunt  Mar- 
gret said, 

"  The  precious  pet  couldn't  possibly  be  more  like  her  father 
if  she  were  not  so  wonderfully  like  her  mother,  too." 

The  Governor  looked  down  at  the  little  face  without  say- 
ing a  word,  and  when  the  child  blinked  up  at  him  with  the 
eyes  of  Thora  and  the  smile  of  Oscar  he  went  up-stairs  to  his 
bedroom,  and  Anna  heard  him  lock  the  door. 

When  the  child  cut  her  first  tooth,  and  everybody  accord- 
ing to  custom  ought  to  have  given  her  a  "  tooth-fee,"  the 
Factor,  coming  home  at  night,  found  no  presents  on  the  nur- 
sery table,  but  the  little  one  was  propped  up  under  the  blue 
lace  of  her  hooded  cradle  and  making  the  air  hideous  with 
the  divine  discord  of  a  baby's  silver-mounted  rattle. 

"  That's  Stephen's  present  and  it  must  have  cost  him  a 
fortune,"  said  Aunt  Margret,  whereupon  the  Factor,  weary 
as  he  was,  walked  out  into  the  road  where  he  could  hear 
nothing  but  the  cold  lapping  of  the  lake. 

Yet  love  of  the  little  one  was  not  bringing  the  two  men 
together — it  was  thrusting  them  still  farther  apart.  "  That 
man  is  scheming  to  get  hold  of  the  child,"  thought  the  Fac- 
17 


250  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

tor.    "  He  and  his  have  robbed  me  of  my  daughters  and  now 
they're  trying  to  rob  me  of  my  granddaughter  also." 

"  She's  my  son's  child,"  thought  the  Governor,  "  and  my 
son's  child  is  my  child — why  did  I  allow  that  man  to  have 
her?" 

"  No  use,  woman !  "  said  Aunt  Margret.  "  It's  late  to  with- 
draw the  sword  when  it  is  thrust  to  the  heart." 

But  then  came  Oscar's  letter  and  Anna's  hopes  went  up 
with  a  bound.  She  was  like  a  child  herself  in  her  joy  over 
it.  Her  happiness  was  too  great  to  permit  her  to  see  holes 
in  its  picture  of  prosperity.  Oscar  was  well,  he  was  getting 
on  splendidly  and  he  sent  his  love  to  everj^body. 

She  read  the  letter  first  to  the  Governor,  and  after  he  had 
heard  it  he  walked  out  into  the  home-field  where  the  eider- 
ducks  were  building  their  nests  afresh  on  the  edge  of  the 
fiord,  and  the  fishing-smacks  were  coming  back  to  harbor. 
Then  she  took  it  over  to  the  Factor's,  rolled  it  up  in  the 
baby's  hand  like  another  rattle,  and  left  it  with  Aunt  Mar- 
gret to  be  shown  to  her  brother. 

But  that  day  had  been  a  bad  day  with  the  Factor  and  when 
Oscar's  letter  came  back  to  Anna  it  was  torn  across  the  mid- 
dle and  enclosed  in  an  empty  envelope.  Anna  was  nearly 
broken-hearted  at  the  treatment  of  her  treasure,  for  no  girl 
of  sixteen  had  ever  so  loved  her  first  love-letter,  and  she  had 
intended  to  show  it  to  everybody — to  the  Bishop,  the  Rector 
the  Sheriff,  and  above  all  to  Magnus. 

Magnus  had  been  coming  and  going  at  intervals  through 
out  the  winter.  It  had  been  a  hard  one  for  him  as  for  others, 
and  he  had  begun  to  realize  what  it  would  be  when  his  father 
was  gone  and  he  had  to  bear  the  burden  of  the  monstrous 
mortgage.  But  harder  to  bear  than  any  winter  had  been  the 
sight  of  his  mother's  sufferings  during  Oscar's  silence. 

"  Any  news  yet  ? "  he  would  ask,  and  Anna  would  say 
"No  and  No,  with  countless  explanations  and  excuses. 

So  it  was  through  the  dark  days,  and  his  feeling  against 
Oscar  grew  hard  as  the  ground  he  trod  upon.  But  when  the 
snow  had  gone  and  he  went  up  with  the  spring  caravan  there 
was  Anna  with  a  face  like  the  rising  sun,  and  by  that  he 
knew  that  a  letter  must  have  come  at  last.  Sure  enough  in 
less  than  a  minute  out  it  came  from  the  bosom  of  her  em- 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  251 

broidered  treya,  torn  across  as  the  Factor  had  left  it  and  she 
was  calling  on  him  to  write  an  answer  to  her  dictation.  This 
is  what  he  wrote : 

"  My  dear  Son  :  Your  letter  arrived  safely  by  the  last 
steamer  and  made  up  by  its  welcome  news  for  the  long  time 
we  had  to  wait  for  it.  It  is  so  good  to  hear  that  you  are 
well  and  prosperous  and  enjoying  your  life  in  the  great  Eng- 
lish city.  Many  a  time  I  feared  it  might  be  otherwise,  but 
now  I  have  your  letter  and  I  am  happy  and  contented. 

"  I  am  proud  that  my  son  is  rising  into  such  high  and  good 
company,  and  though  your  father  speaks  little  I  am  sure  that 
he  feels  the  same.  He  always  said  that  you  would  do  great 
things  some  day,  and  it  is  not  the  way  of  God's  goodness 
to  disappoint  such  expectations  where  they  are  built  on  a 
good  foundation. 

"  And  now  I  have  to  tell  you  that  your  father  is  well  in 
bodily  health,  though  a  little  oppressed  by  worldly  anxieties, 
but  I  tell  him  our  home  in  this  life  is  always  on  a  steep 
mountain  and  if  we  trust  in  God  there  is  no  reason  to  be 
afraid.  As  for  myself,  I  am  as  well  as  can  be  expected  at 
my  age,  though  my  left  ear  troubles  sometimes  and  my  eyes 
are  not  what  they  used  to  be  for  knitting  and  small  print. 
But  I  must  not  allow  myself  to  complain,  for  perhaps  it  is 
a  part  of  God's  mercy  to  us  old  people  that  our  senses  should 
die  by  degrees  so  that  when  they  come  to  die  altogether  we 
may  not  be  taken  unawares. 

"  Magnus  is  writing  this  letter  and  he  is  strong  and  hearty. 
The  snow  was  deep  at  the  farm  this  year  and  he  lost  six  of 
his  best  beasts,  but  his  lambs  came  beautifully  and  now  they 
are  on  the  mountains  and  his  ewes  are  milking  well  and  the 
home-field  is  closed  for  the  hay. 

"  I  have  to  tell  you  that  the  one  you  ask  about  has  gone 
back  to  her  mother  at  Copenhagen  and  that  there  are  those 
who  can  not  be  very  sorry.  Sometimes  to  silence  the  evil 
tongues  that  speak  ill  of  you  here  I  am  tempted  to  blame 
her  for  all  that  has  happened,  but  who  am  I  to  judge  any  one? 
And  the  worst  I  wish  for  her  is  that  she  may  soon  become 
a  God-fearing  girl. 

"  Margret  Neilsen  is  just  as  she  always  was,  a  twisted 


252  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

bough  with  plenty  of  sap  in  it,  and  the  Factor  would  be  well 
enough  but  for  a  bad  hip.  He  too,  like  your  father,  is  much 
oppressed  by  worldly  cares  and  taking  it  ill  that  they  should 
fall  so  fast  upon  him  in  the  evening  of  his  days. 

"  And  now  I  have  to  tell  you  of  your  little  Elin  that  she 
is  as  well  as  can  be,  and  she  has  cut  two  front  teeth  and  her 
hair  is  curling  over  her  forehead.  She  is  the  best  child  that 
ever  was  born,  and  when  she  smiles  she  is  so  like  somebody 
that  it  nearly  breaks  my  heart  to  look  at  her.  Margret  is 
as  good  to  the  darling  as  if  she  were  her  own  mother,  and 
your  father  and  the  Factor  can  hardly  see  the  sun  for  her. 
As  for  me  it  fills  my  heart  brimful  to  think  how  God  in  His 
goodness  has  sent  us  old  folks  this  little  angel  after  our  late 
troubles,  for  she  is  like  the  spring  after  a  hard  winter  when 
the  snow  and  ice  have  stayed  so  long  that  we  think  surely 
we  shall  never  see  the  grass  or  hear  the  rivers  again,  and 
then  all  at  once  there  are  the  green  fields  and  the  shining 
streams  and  all  the  gladness  of  the  flowers. 

"  And  now,  though  you  are  getting  on  so  well,  you  must 
not  be  angry  with  your  mother  for  sending  you  a  little  pres- 
ent. Maria  has  been  all  day  in  the  kitchen  packing  your  col- 
lege box,  and  goodness  knows  what  things  she  may  have  put 
in  it.  But  I  am  knitting  you  a  pair  of  stockings  out  of  old 
Maggie's  brown  wool,  and  I  hope  you  will  not  be  ashamed  to 
wear  them,  for  they  will  keep  your  feet  warm  in  the  cold 
weather,  when  the  English  socks  must  be  so  thin  and  cottony. 
Then  I  remember  how  fond  you  used  to  be  of  our  smoked 
mutton,  so  I  am  telling  Maria  to  put  in  some  of  that  too, 
and  a  few  rolls  of  Rullapilsa. 

"  I  dare  not  let  the  Governor  know  I  am  sending  the  mut- 
ton— he  would  think  it  foolish  and  uimecessary — and  of 
course,  with  so  many  good  things  to  eat  and  drink  I  do  not 
expect  you  to  offer  it  to  your  English  friends,  but  perhaps  you 
can  hide  it  in  a  cupboard  somewhere  and  take  a  slice  when 
you  are  quite  alone. 

"  And  now  I  must  conclude  for  Magnus  is  coming  to  the 
end  of  his  paper.  It  makes  me  happy  to  think  your  bedroom 
is  comfortable  and  I  wish  I  could  thank  your  landlady  for 
being  so  kind  and  motherly.  I  may  never  see  her  in  this 
world,  but  we  shall  meet  in  heaven  some  day  and  then  I  will 
thank  her. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  253 

"  And  now,  my  dear  son,  in  the  midst  of  your  great  pros- 
perity, do  not  forget  that  all  good  things  come  from  God  and 
remember  to  put  your  trust  in  Him.  To  His  care  I  commit 
you,  for  He  knows  all  our  wants  and  all  our  troubles  and  all 
our  secrets  and  His  eye  ever  watches  and  His  heart  never 
sleeps. 

"  Your  affectionate  mother, 

"  Anna." 

IV 

When  Oscar  received  his  mother's  letter  he  was  living  in 
a  slum  in  Westminster.  It  was  called  Short  Street,  and  it 
was  a  typical  example  of  the  mean  streets  which  nearly  al- 
ways, and  in  all  countries,  lie  near  to  a  great  minster,  like 
sea-wrack  at  the  foot  of  a  rock. 

Short  Street  was  a  cul-de-sac,  whereof  one  end  was  a  gin- 
palace  and  the  other  an  archway  to  the  railway  depot  of  a 
suburban  necropolis.  Late  at  night  the  inhabitants  were 
kept  from  sleep  by  the  quarreling  of  tipsy  men  who  had  been 
turned  out  of  the  public-house,  and  early  in  the  morning  they 
were  awakened  by  the  rumbling  of  the  hearses  that  rattled 
the  corpses  over  the  cobbles  of  the  street. 

Oscar's  home  in  Short  Street  was  at  Number  One,  a  grimy 
house  with  a  soiled  card  in  the  fanlight  above  the  door,  say- 
ing, "  Lodgings  for  single  men."  Besides  himself,  there  were 
four  lodgers,  three  of  them  being  porters  at  the  funeral  depot 
and  the  fourth  head  barman  at  the  public-house.  The  bar- 
man had  the  parlor  floor,  and  he  generally  brought  home  a 
number  of  noisy  companions  at  closing  time  to  play  cards  and 
drink  beer. 

.O&xjar's  bedroom  in  this  house  was  not  so  much  a  room 
as  a  stifling  closet  of  miserable  aspect,  in  which  the  refuse 
furniture  seemed  to  make  an  effort  to  range  itself  in  order 
— a  threadbare  carpet,  an  iron  bedstead  without  foot  or  head, 
a  painted  washstand,  a  broken-lipped  water  ewer,  two  or  three 
rickety  chairs,  a  table  that  was  safest  when  it  rested  against 
the  wall,  a  few  pictures  of  race-horses  on  the  remains  of  a 
dirty  wall-paper,  and  a  looking-glass  blotched  by  damp,  like 
a  sheet  of  ice  spotted  and  scabbed  by  thaw. 

His  landlady  lived  in  the  basement  and  was  never  seen 


254  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

except  on  Monday  mornings,  when  she  went  round  for  her 
lodgers'  rent  some  two  or  three  hours  before  the  collector 
called  for  her  ovm.  The  only  person  whom  Oscar  saw  con- 
stantly was  the  landlady's  servant,  Jenny,  a  typical  cockney 
girl  of  the  humblest  class,  untidy  and  unclean,  but  as  bright 
as  a  London  street  sparrow,  and  with  a  big  soft  heart  in  her 
vulgar  little  breast. 

Jenny  had  conceived  a  certain  affection  for  Oscar,  based 
on  no  grounds  more  personal  than  that  he  did  not  shout  at 
her  down  the  pairs  of  stairs,  or  take  liberties,  or  use  bad 
language,  and  that  he  always  raised  his  hat  when  he  passed 
her  in  the  street. 

The  only  effect  of  this  sentimental  attitude  on  Jenny's 
part  was  that  she  always  dressed  in  her  clean  "  print "  on  the 
days  when  Oscar  happened  to  be  at  home  to  tea,  and  it  was 
on  one  of  these  afternoons  that  she  came  knocking  at  the 
door  of  his  bankrupt  garret  and  said,  "  Letter  for  you,  sir," 

It  was  so  long  since  Oscar  had  received  a  letter  of  any  kind 
that  he  leaped  up  with  a  kind  of  fear,  and  on  taking  the  en- 
velope out  of  Jenny's  hand  and  seeing  it  was  addressed  in 
Magnus's  writing,  and  had  been  sent  on  from  his  former  lodg- 
ing, he  turned  pale  and  trembled. 

"  Is  it  bad  news,  sir?  "  said  Jenny.  "  I  wouldn't  'a'  brought 
it  up  on  no  account  if  I'd  knowed." 

"  No,  no !  Leave  me,  Jenny,"  said  Oscar,  and  when  the 
girl  had  gone  and  he  had  opened  the  letter  with  nervous 
fingers,  he  read  it  with  eyes  that  were  wet  with  tears  while 
his  cheeks  w^ere  flushed  with  shame. 

When  he  came  to  the  end  his  heart  was  beating  wildly  and 
he  was  asking  himself  if  it  would  not  be  the  brave  and  manly 
thing  to  write  at  once  and  say  that  all  this  story  of  his  pros- 
perity was  a  miserable  fiction,  that  he  had  never  been  other- 
wise than  wretched,  that  he  was  living  in  a  common  way 
among  common  companions,  doing  common  work  which  he 
dare  not  think  of,  and  that  no  words  could  express  the  secret 
agony  of  his  soul  at  having  sunk  so  low.  But  deep  as  was 
the  degradation  of  that  bitter  hour  it  was  not  so  deep  as  that 
of  the  following  morning  when  Jenny  came  lugging  his  col- 
lege box  up-stairs,  and  chattering  gaily  as  if  she  had  brought 
him  a  fortune. 


THE    PEODIGAL    SON  255 

"  The  railway  man  said  as  'ow  it  was  as  'eavy  as  lead,  so  I 
give  'im  twopence  for  'isself — I  'ope  I  did  right,  sir." 

"  Quite  right,  Jenny.  Here's  the  money.  You  can  go 
now." 

"Can  I  'elp  ye  to  unpack  it,  sir?  There  ain't  no  sort  o' 
box  as  I  can't  unpack.  My !  what  a  long  way  it  must  'a' 
come !  " 

"  It  came  from  Iceland,  Jenny." 

"  Fancy  that  now !  Pat  Looney,  the  lorry  man,  'e  come 
from  there,  and  the  neighbors  says  it's  a  pity  'e  don't  go  back. 
They  never  says  that  about  you,  though.  '  He's  so  perlite,' 
they  says." 

Oscar  allowed  the  girl  to  open  the  box  and  empty  it  of  its 
contents,  and  as  she  did  so  she  chii-ped  away  like  the  street 
sparrow  that  she  was,  while  he  sat  with  the  mist  of  his  boyish 
associations  floating  up  to  him  from  the  happy  past. 

"  Well,  I  never !  "  she  cried,  sitting  back  on  her  heels  as 
she  knelt  before  the  box.  "  Polonies !  And  sausages !  And 
pickled  tongues!  And  hams!  Why,  you  won't  'ave  to  buy 
nothin'  to  eat  for  months !  Isn't  that  lucky  now  ?  Just  when 
you're  '  out '  too !     Is  it  a  present  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  present,  Jenny." 

"  They  must  think  somethin'  of  ye  as  sends  ye  a  present 
like  this,"  said  Jenny,  and  then,  after  a  moment,  in  a  flutter- 
ing voice,  "  Is  it  a  laidy,  sir  ?  " 

"  It's  my  mother,"  said  Oscar. 

"  Your  mother  !"  said  Jenny,  in  a  tone  of  relief.  "  Well, 
that's  what  I  do  call  a  mother — being  good  to  anybody  like 
this." 

"  She  has  been  good  to  me  all  my  life,  Jenny,  and  all  my 
life  I've  treated  her  badly." 

Jenny  looked  at  him  strangely  as  if  something  surprised 
and  pained  her. 

"  You  have,  sir?  " 

"  Shamefully,  Jenny,  yet  she  has  forgiven  me  again  and 
again." 

Jenny  was  silent  for  a  moment  and  then  she  said,  "  Mothers 
is  like  that,  isn't  they?  Now  there's  Jim  Cobb,  the  shandry 
man,  'e  knocks  'is  raother  about  somethin'  cruel,  but  she 
never  'aves  'im  up  for  it,  never !    Mothers  is  proper  good !  " 


256  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  Is  your  mother  good  to  you,  Jenny  ?  " 

"  Me  ?  I'm  an  orfling,"  said  Jenny,  and  then,  lowering  her 
voice  to  a  tone  of  confidence,  she  added,  "  I  don't  mind  tellin' 
you,  but  I  am !  I  always  tells  the  other  lodgers  as  my  mother 
was  one  o'  them  girls  as  ye  see  at  the  Aquarium  at  nights 
covered  with  silks  and  diamonds." 

"  And  was  she  ?  " 

A  look  of  dejection  crossed  Jenny's  face.  "  I  don't  sea 
as  she  could  'ave  been,  because  they  say  at  the  Orflinage  as  I 
was  bom  in  Holloway  when  my  mother  was  doin'  time." 

By  this  time  the  contents  of  the  box  were  ranged  on  the 
table  and  chairs,  and  Jenny  was  sitting  back  on  her  heels 
again  to  look  at  them. 

"  There !  They're  as  pretty  as  a  'am  and  beef  shop !  And 
I  do  believe  as  that's  what  your  mother  meant  'em  for  too. 
Jim  Cobb,  'e  wanted  me  to  set  one  up  with  'im,  but  not  me ! 
Not  as  I  'ave  any  objections  to  the  'am  and  beef  business, 
and  if  anybody  else  thought  of  starting  it " 

Jenny's  hint  was  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  a  vehicle 
stopping  suddenly  outside  the  house. 

"  'Now,  I  bet  ye  I  know  who  that  is,"  she  said  with  a  wink. 
"It's  that  blessed  Jim  Cobb  again.  He's  always  a-wantiu' 
me  to  go  for  a  ride  in  'is  shandry." 

But  going  to  the  window  she  cried,  "  Goodness !  It's  a 
handswim  cab !     And  there's  a  laidy  a-gettin'  out  of  it !  " 

"A  lady?" 

"  You  can't  see  'er  now — she's  on  the  steps.  There  she  is," 
cried  Jenny,  as  a  rat-tat  came  to  the  street  door,  "  and  me 
not  'ad  time  to  comb  my  'air  yet !  " 

With  an  indefinable  feeling  of  mingled  fear  and  hope  which 
there  was  yet  no  cause  for,  Oscar  stood  on  the  landing  and 
listened  while  Jenny  ran  down  the  stairs.  When  the  street 
door  was  opened  he  heard  his  own  name  in  a  voice  that  sent 
the  blood  to  his  head  and  made  him  reel  with  dizziness.  A 
moment  later  Jenny  came  back  with  a  face  that  looked  white 
even  under  the  smudges  that  soiled  it,  and  she  said  in  the 
same  flutttering  voice  as  before: 

"  I  thought  as  much.  It's  you  she's  askin'  for.  I've  took 
^r  into  the  barman's  parlor — 'e  won't  be  'ome  till  tea." 

Oscar  went  down-stairs  slowly,  but  when  he  got  to  the  hot- 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  257 

torn  his  breath  was  coining  and  going  in  gusts,  and  his  heart 
was  beating  against  his  breast  as  with  the  blows  of  a  ham- 
mer. The  parlor  door  stood  ajar  and  a  perfume  he  knew  was 
coming  out  to  him.  After  a  moment  he  pushed  the  door  open 
and  then  she  whom  he  expected  to  see  was  standing  before 
him,  she  herself,  more  radiantly  beautiful  than  ever,  with 
something  soft  and  white  about  her  neck  and  a  face  shining 
with  smiles. 

How  much  he  lived  in  that  moment  no  one  could  say.  A 
hundred  emotions  coursed  through  his  soul  like  the  flash  of 
flame — joy,  delight,  pain,  shame,  the  rapture  of  seeing  her, 
the  humiliation  of  being  found  in  such  a  common  place,  the 
degradation  of  being  ill-clad  and  obviously  poor,  but  above 
all  love — the  uncontrollable  love  that  leads  men  on  to  happi- 
ness and  victory  or  to  ruin  and  death.  His  face  broke  up, 
tears  burst  from  his  eyes  and  holding  out  both  hands  he 
cried — 

"Helga!    My  God!    Helga!" 


Helga  appeared  to  be  not  less  excited  than  Oscar  himself. 
She  was  genuinely  moved  to  see  how  the  joy  he  had  in  meet- 
ing her  affected  him,  and  when  he  had  kissed  both  her  hands 
she  kissed  one  of  his  and  tears  which  she  could  not  keep  back 
came  to  her  eyes  also.  There  was  a  shiny  leather-covered  sofa 
in  the  room  and  they  sat  on  it  side  by  side  and  hand  in  hand. 

"  I  have  never,  never  been  so  glad,"  he  said. 

"  And  I  am  glad  too,"  she  said.  "  Let  me  look  at  you 
again,  Oscar.  A  little  paler,  and  perhaps  a  little  thinner, 
but  otherwise  not  changed  in  the  least." 

"  Yet  you  have  changed  a  great  deal,  Helga." 

*  Grown  older,  have  I  ?  " 

"  Grown  lovelier  and  more  beautiful  than  ever." 

At  that  she  leaned  her  face  toward  him  and  he  kissed  her, 
and  for  some  moments  they  could  not  restrain  their  fondness. 
Helga  was  the  first  to  recover  self-possession. 

"  And  now  let  us  talk  seriously,"  she  said,  but  Oscar  was 


258  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

still  quivering  with  excitement  and,  having  brushed  away  his 
tears,  he  laughed  hysterically. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  in  London  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  A  month — a  month  to-morrow,"  she  replied. 

"  And  to  think  that  I  have  never  known  it  until  now  I 
But  how  did  you  come  to  leave  Copenhagen? " 

"  That's  just  what  I  am  trying  to  tell  you.  My  father,  for 
some  unknown  reason,  elected  to  reduce  my  mother's  income 
by  half,  so  something  had  to  be  done.  Then  I  remembered 
Keils  Finsen  and  the  wonderful  things  he  used  to  say  about 
my  voice." 

"  Finseu !  "  repeated  Oscar,  in  a  graver  tone. 

"  So  I  wrote  to  him,  and  he  answered  that  if  I  would  come 
to  London  he  would  have  experts  to  hear  me,  and  then  they 
would  see  what  could  be  done." 

"Well?    Well?" 

"  Well,  I  came,  and  the  experts  heard  me,  and  they  con- 
cluded that  my  voice  was  quite  unusual — the  most  promising 
soprano  they  had  found  for  years." 

"And  now?" 

"  Now  I'm  at  the  Royal  Academy  of  Music,  and  by  and  by 
I  am  to  go  to  Paris  for  two  years,  three  years,  perhaps  four 
to  study  under  Marchesi  or  Bonby  and  to  attend  an  acting 
class,  and  finally  I  am  to  be  taken  to  Monte  Carlo  or  ISTice 
in  representations  of  "  Faust "  and  "  Romeo,"  as  a  first  step 
toward  taking  London  by  storm  as  Marguerite  or  Juliette — 
there !  " 

"  And  Finsen  is  doing  all  this  for  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes,  so  to  speak,  I  suppose  I  must  say  that." 

"  Is  he  to  pay  your  expenses  ?  " 

"  I  really  don't  know  who  is  to  pay  them,  but  I've  signed 
a  contract  to  come  out  under  his  management  and  to  refund 
everything  when  I  am  fairly  launched.  And  now  about  your- 
self, Oscar?" 

"About  me?" 

"  It's  nearly  a  year  since  I  saw  you  last.  What  have  you 
been  doing  ? " 

Oscar  made  a  clumsy  laugh.  "  Oh,  I'm  like  the  lilies  of 
the  field — I  toil  not,  neither  do  I  spin." 

But  his  forced  gaiety  broke  down  badly,  and  he  said  more 
^Boberly,  "  Don't  ask  me  what  I've  been  doing,  Ilelga." 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  259 

Helga's  eyes  wandered  around  the  room  for  a  moment  and 
then  she  said,  "  I  know !  Neils  told  me  something  about  it, 
and  he  wished  me  to  say " 

Before  she  could  finish  Oscar  had  risen  to  his  feet.  "  If 
you  come  from  Finsen  I  know  what  your  errand  is,  and  I 
would  rather  die " 

"  N^o,  no,  no,"  said  Helga,  clinging  to  his  nervous  hand. 
"  Sit  down.    It's  not  that  at  all.    Listen !  " 

He  sat  and  the  sweetness  of  her  look  banished  all  his 
fears. 

"  They're  giving  what  they  call  promenade  concerts  at  Cov- 
ent  Garden,  and  a  few  days  ago  there  was  some  difference  with 
the  leader  of  the  orchestra.  It  seemed  desirable  to  make  a 
change  and  the  question  was  who  the  new  leader  ought  to  be. 
Naturally  I  thought  of  you." 

"Of  me?" 

"  Why  not  ?  Didn't  I  see  what  you  could  do  with  those 
hundred  and  fifty  numskulls  at  Thingvellir  ? " 

"  But  Covent  Garden !  " 

"  My  dear  Oscar,  I've  seen  every  leader  they  have  here,  and 
while  they  are  all  your  superiors  in  knowledge  and  experience, 
there's  not  one  of  them  with  a  tittle  of  your  magnetism  and 
genius.  So  I  said,  '  Neils,  if  you  want  the  finest  leader  that 
London  has  ever  seen  let  me  go  and  fetch  him ! ' " 

"  But  you  can't  know,  Helga — you  can't  imagine — if  you 
had  the  least  idea  of  what  I've  gone  through  to  live — merely 
to  live " 

Helga  looked  around  the  room  again  and  she  said,  "  Can't 
I  see  ?  Haven't  I  got  eyes  ?  But  if  you  were  to  tell  me  that 
nobody  has  had  any  use  for  you  in  the  meanest  work  that  is 
ever  done  by  the  commonest  men,  I  should  still  say  what  I 
said  to  Finsen." 

Oscar's  throat  was  hurting  him.  The  thought  of  Helga's 
faith  and  championship  broke  down  his  self-control.  He 
never  allowed  himself  to  think  there  could  be  any  selfish 
ground  for  it. 

"  What  do  you  wish  me  to  do,  Helga  ? "  he  asked. 

"  To  meet  me  in  Finsen's  ofiice  at  eleven  o'clock  to-morrow 
morning." 

"  But  I  vowed  I  could  never  set  foot  in  the    place  again." 


260  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  You  didn't  know  then  that  I  should  ask  you.  And  I  do 
ask  you,  Oscar/' 

He  remembered  the  promise  he  had  given  to  his  father;  he 
reflected  on  the  danger  of  reopening  a  page  of  his  life  which 
he  had  crossed  out  and  turned  down  as  for  ever;  he  thought 
of  Finsen  and  his  interest  in  Helga  and  the  hold  he  would 
have  of  her  through  her  hopes  and  ambitions;  and  his  will 
was  like  a  broken  withe,  for  the  controlling  destiny  of  his  life 
was  leading  him  on. 

"  You  will  be  there,  will  you  not  ?  "  she  whispered,  and 
Oscar  answered : 

"  Yes." 

She  leaned  her  face  forward  again,  and  again  he  kissed  her 
and  then  she  rose  to  go. 

"  Where  are  you  staying  ? "  he  asked,  and  she  told  him. 
It  was  in  a  fashionable  apartment-house  on  the  edge  of  the 
Green  Park. 

"  Does  Finsen  live  there  also  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes,  he  lives  in  the  same  building.  And  you  must 
live  there,  too.  I  shall  want  to  see  you  constantly.  There 
are  a  thousand  things  I  want  you  to  do  for  me.  But  now 
I  must  be  off." 

He  could  not  let  her  go,  and  they  renewed  their  caresses. 
*'  It  will  seem  like  a  dream  when  you  are  gone,"  he  said.  "  I 
shall  hardly  be  able  to  believe  you  have  been  here,  or  that 
you  will  ever  come  back  again." 

"  Don't  say  that.  I  told  you  in  Iceland  that  I  should  come 
to  you  if  you  didn't  come  to  me,  and  I've  kept  my  word, 
haven't  I  ? " 

"  My  dear,  dear  Helga !  " 

"  It  wasn't  quite  good  of  you  to  go  away  without  giving 
me  an  opportunity  of  seeing  you  again." 

"  I  kn©w,  I  know !  " 

"  You  had  a  certain  duty  to  me,  you  know,  after  what  had 
passed " 

"Hush,  dear,  hush!" 

"  But  I'm  willing  to  believe  it  was  the  fault  of  other 
people." 

"  Don't  let  us  speak  of  it,  Helga,"  said  Oscar,  and  his  arms, 
which  had  been  about  her  in  a  close  embrace,  slackened  away 
and  fell. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  261 

It  ■was  easier  to  part  with  her  after  that,  but  before  he 
opened  the  door  he  kissed  her  again,  and  when  he  helped  her 
into  the  hansom  he  put  her  fingers  to  his  lips. 

He  stood  bare-headed  on  the  pavement  oblivious  to  all  sur- 
roundings until  the  cab  had  rounded  the  corner  of  the  public 
house  and  Plelga  had  vt^aved  to  him  through  the  glass.  Then 
he  became  aware  that  the  sight  in  that  sordid  slum  of  so  lovely 
a  girl,  so  beautifully  dressed  and  with  a  hansom  waiting  for 
her,  had  brought  the  neighbors  to  their  doors,  and  that  the 
women  were  thumbing  their  apron-strings  and  grinning  to 
each  other  across  the  rails. 

When  he  reentered  the  house  Jenny  passed  him  in  the 
lobby  with  a  stealthy  and  guilty  air  which  seemed  to  say  that 
her  poor  tortured  little  soul  had  not  resisted  the  temptation 
to  listen  and  to  watch. 

He  returned  to  the  parlor  for  a  moment  and  the  perfume  of 
Helga's  presence  was  still  to  be  felt  there  over  the  odor  of 
dead  ale  and  tobacco.  Never  had  he  envied  the  barman  be- 
fore, but  at  that  moment  he  would  have  given  all  he  pos- 
sessed to  keep  this  room  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  that  he 
might  sit  on  the  sofa  where  Helga  had  sat,  and  lay  his  hand 
on  the  table  where  her  hand  had  rested  and  kiss  the  carpet 
where  her  feet  had  trod. 

He  was  like  a  man  moving  in  a  dream,  and  when  he  went 
back  to  his  own  apartment  he  was  not  conscious  of  his 
squalid  surroundings.  The  dirty  wall-paper,  the  threadbare 
carpet  and  the  blotched  looking-glass  humiliated  and  com- 
promised him  no  longer.  His  body  was  still  in  his  bankrupt 
garret,  but  his  soul  was  far  away.  It  was  in  another  world 
— a  world  that  was  bright  with  Helga's  eyes  as  its  sun  and 
stars,  for  he  was  going  over  again  the  time  he  had  spent 
with  her,  every  word  of  it,  every  tone,  every  look,  every 
gesture. 

This  lasted  the  whole  of  the  day  and  when  darkness  fell  a 
curtain  seemed  to  have  fallen  on  the  life  he  had  been  living 
during  the  past  twelve  months.  The  mire  and  slime  of  vulgar 
associations,  the  degradation  of  common  companionship,  the 
sense  of  loneliness,  of  friendlessness,  of  being  nothing  and 
nobody,  the  deep  remembrance  of  being  homeless  and  hopeless 
and  helpless  and  useless — all  this  had  gone.    That  passage  of 


262  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

his  life  was  over  now,  and  never,  never,  never  would  its  pain 
and  shame  come  back  to  him  again.  He  had  passed  through 
it  because  he  had  sinned ;  but  if  he  had  sinned  he  had  suffered, 
and  God  Himself  had  seen  that  he  had  suffered  enough. 

His  eyes  were  wet  when  he  lay  down  on  his  soiled  pillow, 
but  he  fell  asleep  in  a  blissful  condition  and  in  the  first  dream 
of  the  night  he  was  back  with  Helga.  Once  in  the  dark  hours 
he  awoke  and  heard  the  deadened  hum  of  the  barman  and  his 
friends  at  their  cards  and  ale;  and  again  he  awoke  in  the 
dawn  and  then  he  heard  the  hearse  of  the  necropolis  thun- 
dering up  Short  Street  and  rumbling  under  the  archway  at 
the  top  of  it. 

At  eleven  o'clock  that  morning  he  went  to  Covent  Garden, 
and  again  and  again  at  eleven  the  following  mornings  he 
went  there.  On  the  tenth  morning  he  called  to  Jenny,  who 
had  grown  shy  of  him  and  was  leaving  his  breakfast  on  a 
tray  outside  his  door,  and  said: 

"  Jenny,  I  wish  you  to  tell  your  mistress  that  I  shall  be 
leaving  this  lodging  in  another  week." 

Then  Jenny's  white  and  wistful  face  broke  down  utterly, 
and  with  a  crack  in  her  voice,  and  the  ghost  of  a  smothered 
sob  in  it,  she  said: 

"  I  knowed  as  it  'ud  come  to  this.  The  minit  I  set  eyes  on 
'er  I  said  as  she'd  take  ye  away  from  me — an'  she  'as." 


VI 

The  Governor  never  knew  that  Oscar  had  broken  faith 
with  him. 

When  the  time  came  for  the  next  session  of  Althing,  a  Bill 
for  the  reform  of  the  Constitution,  reenacting  the  abolition 
of  the  Governorship  and  the  appointment  of  a  Minister,  was 
passed  by  a  large  majority.  But  an  Act  involving  a  constitu- 
tional change  had  to  be  voted  by  two  Parliaments  and  there- 
fore a  dissolution  of  Althing  became  necessary.  The  time 
of  dissolution  was  at  the  discretion  of  the  Governor,  and  he 
might  have  delayed  it  until  the  fever  for  reform  had  passed. 
Instead  of  doing  so  he  decided  to  dissolve  immediately,  thus 
feeding  the  agitation  and  precipitating  his  own  fate. 


THE    PEODIGAL    SON  263 

Many  things  befall  the  man  whose  day  is  done,  and  the 
measure  of  the  Governor's  errors  was  not  yet  full.  When  the 
time  came  to  select  the  candidates  it  was  found  that  the  con- 
stituency for  which  Oscar  had  sat — the  capital — was  once 
more  without  its  man,  and  to  everybody's  astonishment  the 
Governor  himself,  in  order  to  secure  a  voice  in  the  popular 
assembly,  determined  to  etand  for  it. 

This  unusual  step  on  the  Governor's  part  created  great  ex- 
citement, but  the  fever  increased  tenfold  when  it  was  an- 
nounced that  the  Factor  intended  to  oppose  him. 

Never  had  popular  feeling  run  so  high  as  on  the  night  when 
the  Governor  and  the  Factor  had  to  confront  each  other  on 
the  same  hustings.  The  better  people  stayed  away,  being 
sorry  and  ashamed  that  these  two  friends  of  fifty  years  should 
claw  each  other  face  to  face  like  eagles,  but  the  baser  sort 
were  reveling  in  the  prospect  of  that  spectacle  and  the  Arti- 
san's Institute  was  crowded. 

"  You  learn  a  lot  when  your  servants  quarrel,"  they  told 
each  other,  and  they  were  not  to  be  disappointed. 

The  Sheriff  was  in  the  chair,  and  it  was  clear  from  the 
beginning  that  his  life-long  rivalry  of  the  Governor  did  not 
prompt  him  to  restrain  either  candidate  from  making  a  fool 
of  himself.  Bad  luck  is  a  quick  voter  and  the  Governor 
played  into  the  Sheriff's  hands  without  suspicion  and  without 
delay. 

The  once  silent  and  dignified  man  had  lost  all  reticence  and 
self-control,  and  when  his  time  came  to  speak  he  flung  innu- 
endoes on  every  side.  If  you  hate  a  man  all  his  deeds  are 
hateful,  and  coming  at  length  to  the  Factor's  business  life  the 
Governor  said: 

"  Never  is  selfishness  satisfied,  my  friends.  Will  you  com- 
mit the  care  of  your  public  purse  to  one  who  in  order  to  grasp 
all  is  losing  all  and  hurling  himself  into  bankruptcy  and 
want  ? " 

This  thrust  was  received  with  ironical  cheers  and  counter 
cheers,  not  unmixed  with  derisive  laughter,  and  when  the 
Factor's  turn  came  he  said  with  a  humorous  leer  over  a  face 
that  was  white  as  death : 

"  A  blimt  knife  should  seek  the  joints  and  not  hack  at  the 
solid  bone.    But  if  it  comes  to  asking  conundrums  I'll  ask  one 


264  THE    PEODIGAL    SON 

also :  Will  you  commit  the  care  of  your  public  purse  to  one 
whose  son  was  banished  from  the  country  because  he  was  a 
forger  and  a  thief  ?  " 

This  charge  against  Oscar,  often  whispered,  but  never  be- 
fore publicly  uttered,  fell  on  the  reeking  crowd  with  the  effect 
of  a  thunderbolt,  and  before  the  audience  had  recovered  from 
its  astonishment  the  Governor  was  on  his  feet  again,  against 
all  rule  and  order,  saying  in  a  loud  voice: 

"  And  will  you  commit  the  charge  of  your  public  morality 
to  a  man  who  in  his  youth  contracted  an  alliance  with  an 
abandoned  woman  and  only  married  his  mistress  after  his 
first  daughter  had  been  born  a  bastard  ?  " 

This  was  the  climax  of  sensation.  The  chewing  and  spit- 
ting crowd  were  silent,  save  for  the  sound  of  their  audible 
breathing  which  was  like  the  hissing  in-wash  of  an  ebbing 
wave.  The  Factor  was  pallid  and  speechless,  as  if  the  Govern- 
or's cruel  word  had  struck  all  sensibility  as  well  as  sneering 
out  of  his  face,  while  the  Governor  faced  him  with  bloodshot 
eyes  and  blazing  cheeks  and  lips  that  quivered  convulsively. 

Thus  the  two  men  stood  for  a  long  moment  with  scarcely 
a  yard's  space  between  them,  and  then  a  big  man  was  seen 
to  be  parting  the  people  at  the  back  of  the  platform  and  com- 
ing forward  with  great  strides.  It  was  Magnus,  and  he  was 
making  for  his  father  as  if  to  take  him  forcibly  away. 

But  before  the  Governor  had  seen  him,  or  could  be  con- 
scious of  his  presence,  another  hand,  an  unseen  hand,  had 
been  laid  upon  his  shoulder.  With  a  blow  on  the  brain  that 
was  like  a  stroke  from  heaven,  the  Governor  had  realized  that 
in  returning  the  insult  of  the  Factor,  in  his  mad  wrath  and 
blind  passion,  he  had  outraged  the  memory  of  Thora,  and 
that  Thora  was  in  her  grave,  and  he  had  loved  her  better 
than  any  human  soul  that  was  not  of  his  own  flesh  and  blood. 

Then  the  noisome  place  in  its  ghastly  silence  spun  round 
him,  and  with  a  low  whine  like  that  of  a  poisoned  dog  he 
fell  heavily  to  the  floor.  Magnus  took  him  up  and  carried 
him  home — he  had  a  stroke  of  paralysis. 

There  was  only  one  nomination  for  the  capital,  the  Factor 
was  returned  unopposed,  and  when  the  writs  came  back  from 
the  country  it  was  found  that  the  reform  party  had  a  larger 
majority  than  before. 


THE    PEODIGAL    SON  265 

The  Governor  made  a  slow  recovery,  but  he  was  moving 
about  by  the  time  that  Althing  was  next  in  session  and  when 
the  constitutional  question  came  up  again  he  hobbled  down 
to  Parliament  House  on  two  sticks,  in  spite  of  all  remon- 
strance, and  took  a  seat  in  his  little  room  overlooking  the 
legislative  chamber. 

The  debate  was  short  and  not  exciting,  and  no  one  looked 
toward  the  alcove  in  which  the  Governor  sat  in  his  faded 
uniform,  a  doddering  shadow  of  his  old  authority,  but  many 
cruel  sallies  of  clumsy  wit  were  aimed  in  that  direction.  The 
Governor  grew  more  and  more  indignant,  and  at  length  he 
rose,  frothing  at  the  lips,  to  protest  against  unmerited  insult, 
and  was  put  down  by  the  Speaker,  who  had  formerly  been  his 
own  private  secretary. 

The  Act  was  passed  by  acclamation ;  there  was  much  cheer- 
ing, with  the  usual  nine  hurrahs  after  "  God  save  the  King," 
and  then  the  fallen  man  was  carried  home. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  he  had  a  second  seizure,  and  he 
never  left  his  room  again.  But  as  soon  as  he  had  recovered 
his  speech  he  occupied  his  time  dictating  petitions  to  the 
King  praying  him  not  to  give  his  sanction  to  an  Act  that 
was  designed  to  degrade  his  sei-vant. 

After  a  few  weeks  Magnus  came  to  persuade  his  father  and 
mother  to  leave  Government  House  and  make  their  home  at 
the  farm. 

"  It's  of  no  use  to  resist  Parliament,  sir,"  he  said.  "  The 
new  Minister  will  be  appointed  presently,  and  why  should  you 
wait  until  he  turns  you  out?  Come  to  Thingvellir — I'm 
strong,  I  can  work  for  all  of  us." 

But  his  father  flew  at  him  in  a  fury.  "  How  dare  you  make 
such  a  proposition  ?  "  he  said.  "  And  how  dare  you  show  your 
face  in  this  house?  Don't  you  know  that  you  have  been  the 
cause  of  everything?  If  it  had  not  been  for  what  you  did  at 
the  beginning  none  of  this  mischief  would  have  happened. 
As  for  the  new  Minister,  if  he  comes  here  to  turn  me  out  tell 
him  to  bring  my  coffin  with  him — do  you  hear  me  ? — tell  him 
to  bring  my  coffin." 

The  idea  that  Magnus  was  really  to  blame  for  all  that  had 
occurred,  being  the  first  cause  and  origin  of  the  trouble,  grew 
upon  the  Governor  day  by  day,  so  that  Oscar  seemed  to  be 
18 


266  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

without  fault  and  even  came  to  be  regarded  as  a  martyr.  He 
called  upon  Anna  to  read  Oscar's  letter  to  him  again,  and 
•when  he  had  heard  it  a  second  time  he  was  so  seized  by  the 
idea  that  the  Prime  Minister  of  England  was  a  friend  of  his 
son's  that  he  had  himself  propped  up  in  bed  in  order  that  he 
might  write  to  Oscar  with  his  own  hand  calling  on  him  to 
defeat  his  father's  enemies. 

"  You  have  great  influence  now,  Oscar,  and  you  must  save 
your  father  from  the  machinations  of  these  malicious  scoun- 
drels, of  whom  the  worst  and  most  devilish  is  the  Factor." 

That  was  what  he  thought  he  was  wi'iting,  but  his  poor 
brain  was  far  gone  by  this  time  and  the  paper  he  scribbled 
on  over  the  counterpane  was  merely  covered  with  unintelli- 
gible curves  and  strokes  which  Anna  could  not  send  on  to 
Oscar. 

When  it  seemed  certain  that  the  intensity  of  the  Governor's 
wrath  would  kill  him,  and  that  he  would  die  with  nothing  in 
his  heart  but  hatred  of  the  Factor,  Anna  and  Aunt  Margret 
put  their  heads  together  and  thought  of  a  way  to  soften  his 
feelings  and  sweeten  his  end.  It  centered  in  the  child  as 
before.    "  A  little  child  shall  lead  them,"  they  said. 

They  took  little  Elin  to  the  Governor's  bedroom,  and  left 
her  to  play  on  the  floor.  She  had  grown  to  be  the  sweetest 
thing,  with  an  angel's  face,  a  little  beam  of  spring  sunshine 
that  ran  about  the  room  and  talked.  But  the  only  effect  of 
her  presence  was  to  make  the  sick  man  stretch  his  arms  to  a 
safe  near  the  head  of  his  bed  and  take  out  a  roll  of  papers. 

Xobody  knew  what  the  papers  were,  except  that  they  were 
old  and  that  they  crinkled  in  his  stiff  fingers.  He  kept  them 
under  his  pillow  at  all  times  save  when  his  bed  was  being 
made  and  then  he  smuggled  them  into  the  breast  of  his  night- 
shirt. 

"When  the  women  talked  of  Elin  and  all  her  pretty  ways 
and  sweet  mysteries  of  childish  make-believe,  the  Governor 
talked  of  Oscar.  Although  his  memory  was  confused  about 
recent  events  it  was  wondrously  clear  about  dietant  ones,  and 
he  had  countless  stories  of  Oscar  as  a  child.  Some  of  them 
were  humorous  and  he  would  laugh  at  them  as  well  as  he 
could  with  his  distorted  face,  but  all  were  meant  to  show  that 
Oscar  was  not  like  other  children,  and  when  he  had  come 
to  an  end  he  would  say : 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  267 

"My  son  is  a  great  man  now,  as  I  always  said  he  would 
be,  and  Avhen  he  gets  my  letter  you'll  see  what  he  will  do." 

Meantime  the  Act  had  been  sent  over  to  Denmark  and  the 
Sheriff  had  been  called  across  to  Copenhagen.  There  was 
only  one  thing  that  this  could  mean,  and  in  the  absence  of 
telegraphic  communication  the  little  capital  sat  waiting  for 
the  return  of  the  steamer  that  was  to  bring  the  Sheriff  back. 
She  was  due  on  a  Sunday  night,  and  the  bell-ringers  of  the 
cathedral  stood  ready  to  ring  a  peal  in  honor  of  the  new 
Minister. 

The  Governor  heai'd  that  the  "  Laura  "  was  expected  and  he 
conceived  the  idea  that  Oscar  was  coming  with  her  to  bring 
the  King's  veto  and  to  scatter  his  father's  enemies.  He  was 
very  ill  that  day,  and  Doctor  Olesen  had  said  he  might  not 
last  until  morning.  But  he  would  have  nobody  to  nurse  him, 
and  Magnus,  who  had  come  at  his  mother's  call,  but  dared 
not  show  his  face  to  his  father,  sat  on  the  stairs  outside  the 
door. 

Aunt  Margret  was  coming  and  going  during  the  whole  of 
the  day,  and  toward  evening  the  Factor  himself  was  seen 
tramping  to  and  fro  outside  the  house,  looking  up  at  inter- 
vals at  the  Governor's  windows  with  a  face  in  which  the  mad- 
ness of  love  and  fear  was  fighting  with  the  greater  madness 
of  pride  and  wrath.  At  length  Anna  went  out  to  him  and 
said: 

"  Oscar  Neilsen,  come  into  the  house  to  see  your  old 
friend." 

"  Not  till  he  asks  me — not  till  he  asks  me,"  said  the  Factor; 
whereupon  Anna  went  indoors  again  and  whispered  over  the 
bed  of  the  dying  man : 

"  Stephen,  the  Factor  is  outside,  and  he  only  wants  to  be 
asked  to  come  in." 

"  He  must  come  in  on  his  knees  then,"  said  the  Governor, 
and  that  was  the  end  of  everything. 

The  steamer  did  not  arrive  that  night,  and  the  bell-ringers 
went  to  bed.  But  at  daybreak,  when  the  fishing-boats  in  the 
bay  were  breaking  through  a  veil  of  mist  and  the  sunlight 
was  glistening  on  the  mountain-tops,  the  bells  began  to  ring 
merrily,  for  the  "  Laura  "  was  sailing  up  the  fiord  with  flags 
floating  from  stem  to  stern. 


268  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

Magnus  heard  the  bolls,  and  then  a  shuffling  movement  in 
his  father's  bedroom.  A  little  later  he  heard  the  hurrahs  of 
people  cheering  in  the  streets,  and  then  a  smothered  echo  of 
the  same  sound  at  the  other  side  of  his  father's  door. 

"  Hurrah !  "    "  Hurrah !  "  cried  the  people  outside. 

"  Hur-a !     Hur-a  !     Hur-a-a-  "  echoed  the  voice  within. 

At  the  next  moment  the  house  shook  as  with  a  heavy  fall 
and  Magnus  burst  into  his  father's  bedroom.  His  father  lay 
in  his  night-shirt  on  the  floor.  He  was  dead,  but  his  face  was 
smiling  and  in  his  withered  hands  were  the  crinkled  papers 
on  which  Oscar  in  his  boyhood  had  scribbled  his  childish 
compositions. 

Later  the  same  day  Magnus  wrote  to  Oscar :  "  This  is  to 
tell  you  that  our  father  died  this  morning.  I  think  he  died, 
happy." 

But  the  mail  did  not  leave  until  the  end  of  the  week,  and 
under  Magnus's  message  Anna  wrote  for  herself :  "  He  loved 
you  to  the  last,  and  we  hav  berrid  him  next  to  our  dere 
Thora." 

VII 

When  Oscar  received  the  news  of  his  father's  death  he  was 
near  the  close  of  what  he  had  believed  to  be  the  happiest  per- 
iod of  his  life.  His  success  as  a  leader  of  orchestra  had  been 
substantial  and  immediate,  and  when  the  concerts  at  Covent 
Garden  came  to  an  end  he  had  been  offered  engagements  in 
other  quarters. 

"There!  Didn't  I  know  what  I  was  talking  about?" 
Helga  said.  "  But  this  is  nothing  to  the  reputation  you  will 
make  when  you  consent  to  appear  as  a  composer." 

"  Ah,  that  is  past  praying  for ! "  Oscar  answered  with  a 
shake  of  the  head,  but  all  the  same  he  was  pleased  and  happy. 

On  leavng  his  dismal  lodgings  in  Short  Street,  he  took 
rooms  in  the  same  house  with  Helga  and  Finsen  at  the  corner 
of  Piccadilly  and  the  Green  Park.  There  the  three  friends 
lived  the  innocent  lives  of  children,  observing  few  of  the  re- 
strictions which  society  imposes  on  the  manners  and  conduct 
of  men  and  women. 

Helga's  sitting-room  was  the  general  rendezvous,  and  the 


THE    PKODIGAL    SON  269 

men  used  it  with  the  utmost  freedom.  Oscar,  in  particular, 
■was  nearly  always  to  be  found  there,  except  in  the  mornings 
when  Helga  was  at  the  Academy  and  in  the  evenings  when 
he  was  himself  at  the  theater. 

No  hour  was  too  early  and  hardly  any  hour  too  late  for 
Oscar  to  call  on  Helga.  He  ate  with  her,  played  with  her, 
sang  with  her,  read  with  her  and  helped  her  with  her  lessons. 
Mozart,  Cherubini,  Ouseley,  Macfarren,  Parry,  and  again 
Mozart — their  work  was  all  play  and  their  play  was  all  music. 

Helga  was  more  than  satisfied  that  Oscar  should  be  always 
with  her,  always  assisting  her,  always  praising  and  encourag- 
ing and  inspiring  her,  and  he  on  his  part  was  entirely  happy 
to  devote  himself  to  her  service.  To  think  for  a  moment  that 
this  was  all  she  wished  for,  all  she  wanted  with  him,  was  more 
than  his  heart  was  capable  of. 

On  their  oS  days  and  nights  they  went  to  other  concerts 
and  opera-houses ;  attended  the  English  cathedral  services  and 
the  masses  at  Catholic  Oratories;  heard  the  old  masterpieces 
over  and  over  again;  became  familiar  with  nearly  every  new 
opera,  oratorio,  symphony,  and  voluntary,  and  studied  the 
methods  of  most  of  the  great  singers  and  players  who  ap- 
peared in  London.  It  was  one  long  feast  of  music  eaten  at 
the  table  of  love. 

They  had  their  social  pleasures  too,  and  kept  open  house 
on  Sundays.  Sometimes  they  supped  or  dined  at  restaurants 
with  their  new  friends,  who  were  chiefly  Finsen's  friends,  and 
then  brought  their  hosts  back  to  Helga's  rooms  for  cards 
and  conversation  until  one,  two,  or  three  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing. It  was  a  reckless,  irresponsible,  unconventional  life,  a 
little  like  the  life  Oscar  had  lived  at  college,  a  little  like  the 
life  Plelga  had  lived  with  her  mother  at  Copenhagen,  and 
more  than  a  little  dangerous,  though  they  never  thought  of 
that. 

Oscar  found  only  one  cause  for  uneasiness  and  that  con- 
cerned Finsen.  A  certain  pride  which  he  felt  at  first  in  Fin- 
sen's  interest  in  the  girl  he  loved,  the  girl  who  loved  him, 
soon  gave  place  to  jealousy.  He  was  jealous  of  Finsen's  hold 
over  Helga,  his  control  of  her  career,  his  power  over  her 
destiny.  Little  by  little  this  became  a  gnawing  anxiety  until 
at  length  every  pleasant  word  Helga  exchanged  with  Finsen, 


270  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

and  every  smile  she  gave  liim,  seemed  to  go  to  Oscar's  heart 
like  a  stab. 

He  spoke  to  lier  on  the  subject,  and  she  only  laughed  at  him 
for  his  folly.  Her  endearing  words  and  caresses  dissipated 
his  uneasiness  for  a  time,  but  it  always  came  back.  Some- 
times it  seemed  to  him  that  Finsen  presumed  on  his  position 
as  the  one  who  was  finding  the  ways  and  means,  and  that 
Finsen's  friends  interpreted  this  attitude  according  to  the 
morality  of  the  atmosphere  they  lived  in.  At  length  to  ease 
the  secret  gnawing  at  his  heart  Oscar  proposed  that  they 
should  marry.  Why  not  ?  There  was  no  longer  any  impedi- 
ment, and  there  would  be  an  end  of  damaging  misconceptions. 

Remembering  the  past  he  thought  Helga  would  have  re- 
ceived his  proposal  with  delight,  but  times  had  changed  since 
they  were  together  in  Iceland  and  a  cheerless  smile  hung 
about  her  lips  as  she  shook  her  head.  She  showed  him  how 
fatal  marriage  at  this  stage  would  be  to  a  girl  in  her  position, 
— fatal  to  her  aims,  her  ambitions,  her  standing  with  the 
public,  and  above  all  with  the  men  to  whom  she  had  to  look 
for  favors — until  he  felt  almost  as  much  ashamed  as  if  he 
had  proposed  a  guilty  thing. 

"But  why  should  you  be  jealous?"  she  said,  approaching 
him  to  embrace  him.  "  If  he  is  so  there  may  certainly  be 
some  cause." 

She  put  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  added,  "  Business  is 
business,  you  know,  and  I  may  have  to  do  things  in  the  future 
which  neither  of  us  could  wish — unless,"  she  whispered,  lay- 
ing her  head  on  his  breast,  "  my  bad  boy  will  at  length  consent 
to  be  true  to  himself  and  to  his  genius  and  promise  to  write 
the  great  works  I  know  he  can  write,  and  let  me  sing  them 
all  over  the  world.  Then,"  she  cried  with  passion,  while  her 
eyes  shone  and  her  arms  clutched  his  neck,  "  then  he  will  see 
what  I  can  do." 

To  this,  and  such  as  this,  Oscar  answered,  "  No,  no,"  or, 
"  It's  impossible,"  or  "  Don't  let  us  talk  of  it;  "  but  Helga's 
endearing  words  and  caresses,  again  and  again  repeated,  were 
like  the  water  from  sunny  streams  which  trickles  between 
the  snow  and  the  frozen  rock  and  brings  down  the  avalanche 
at  last. 

The  days  passed — they  kept  no  count  of  them — six  months, 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  271 

a  year,  a  year  and  a  half,  and  at  length  the  time  approached 
when  Helga,  according  to  the  program  which  had  been 
mapped  out  for  her,  was  to  leave  the  Academy  of  Music  and 
begin  her  lessons  in  Paris.  The  prospect  of  an  early  separa- 
tion was  a  constant  nightmare  to  Oscar,  who  was  striving 
in  vain  to  devise  schemes  to  prevent  it,  when  that  secret  play 
of  fate  which  men  call  chance,  helped  out  by  the  blind  striv- 
ings of  human  passion,  brought  him  unexpectedly  to  the  end 
he  aimed  at. 

One  day  Finsen  came  dashing  into  Helga's  sitting-room 
with  his  mouth  full  of  news.  The  syndicate  which  held  the 
theater  and  Casino  in  one  of  the  principal  towns  of  the  Ri- 
viera had  applied  to  him  to  recommend  a  leader  of  orchestra 
who  should  be  capable  of  controlling  a  season  of  opera;  he 
had  recommended  Oscar;  his  recommendation  had  been  ac- 
cepted, and  it  had  been  left  to  him  to  conclude  terms  with 
the  company's  servant  and  to  despatch  him  without  delay. 

If  a  desire  to  separate  Oscar  from  Helga  had  been  a  part 
of  Finsen's  plan  his  hopes  were  instantly  frustrated,  for 
Helga  herself  cried: 

"  Splendid !  But  if  Oscar  is  to  control  the  opera  season 
why  can't  I  go  also  ?  He  can  put  me  into  small  parts  under 
an  assumed  name  in  that  distant  place  where  I  can  never 
be  recognized,  and  that  will  be  better  practise  for  the  stage 
than  all  the  acting-classes  in  Christendom." 

"  Admirable  idea !  "  shouted  Oscai',  and  Finsen — not  half- 
convinced — was  compelled  to  agree. 

It  was  while  Oscar's  heart  rode  high  on  this  last  freak  of 
fortune,  while  he  was  preparing  for  his  flight  to  the  Riviera 
and  while  Helga  was  writing  to  Paris  to  postpone  her  lessons, 
that  the  letter  came  from  Iceland  and  fell  on  him  like  a  thun- 
derbolt. The  sight  of  a  black-edged  envelope  addressed  in 
Magnus's  handwriting  sent  the  blood  rushing  to  his  head.  It 
was  long  before  he  could  gather  courage  to  open  it.  Feeling 
numb  and  faint  he  put  the  letter  in  his  pocket  and  went  out 
into  the  park  to  breathe  and  to  think. 

He  had  not  written  to  his  mother  since  the  early  days  in  his 
first  lodging,  being  afraid  to  write  from  Short  Street  from 
dread  of  disclosing  his  povci'ty  or  from  Piccadilly  from  fear 
of  saying  anything  about  Helga.     As  a  consequence  he  had 


272  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

heard  nothing  from  home  since  Anna's  letter;  the  only  news 
that  had  reached  him  had  come  through  Finseu  by  way  of 
his  father  and  concerned  public  matters  chiefly — the  fall  of 
the  barter  trade,  the  passing  of  the  new  Act  and  the  progress 
of  the  elections. 

Some  one  belonging  to  him  was  dead — who  could  it  be? 
Por  no  other  reason  than  that  little  Elin  was  the  youngest 
and  frailest  he  concluded  that  it  must  be  the  child.  His 
poor  motherless  darling !  He  reproached  himself  with  having 
thought  so  little  of  her  amid  the  appeals  of  an  absorbing 
passion.  Yet  he  had  thought  of  her:  he  had  thought  he 
would  go  back  for  her  some  day,  as  it  was  his  right  and  duty 
to  do,  and  so  make  amends  to  Thora  in  the  care  and  love  he 
would  bestow  on  her  child.  But  perhaps  that  atonement  was 
impossible  now  and  his  sweet  child  was  with  her  mother  in 
heaven. 

Oscar  thought  that  of  all  disasters  that  could  befall  him 
at  home  the  death  of  his  child  would  be  the  worst,  but  when 
at  length  he  opened  his  letter  and  found  that  it  was  his  father 
who  was  gone  from  him  his  grief  was  greater  still.  His  dear 
father  who  had  loved  him  better,  perhaps,  than  any  one  else 
in  the  world,  and  whom  he  had  rewarded  the  worst !  He 
remembered  the  forgery  and  felt  choked  with  shame;  he 
thought  of  the  promise  to  break  with  Helga  and  felt  ci*ushed 
by  remorse.  His  father,  who  had  pampered  him  and  cherished 
such  high  hopes  for  him  that  should  never  be  realized,  never 
justified  now,  was  dead  far  away  in  Iceland,  and  had  loved 
him  to  the  last ! 

Sitting  on  a  bench  under  a  tree  he  was  trying  to  read 
again,  as  well  as  he  could  for  the  fading  light  and  the  blind- 
ing mist  in  his  eyes,  the  written  sob  of  his  mother's  mis- 
spelled postscript,  when  a  park-keeper  touched  him  on  the 
shoulder  to  say  the  gates  were  closing,  and  then  the  dull 
hum  of  London's  burrowing  mazes  fell  on  his  ear  again. 

Helga  had  expected  him  in  her  room  that  afternoon  ta 
make  the  last  arrangements  for  their  journey,  but  the  sun  set> 
the  evening  closed,  the  night  fell  and  he  did  not  come.  Next 
morning  he  walked  in  with  drooping  head  and  a  dejected 
step  and  she  saw  that  something  had  occurred. 

"  You  have  had  bad  news,  Oscar — what  is  it  ?  " 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  273 

"  My  father  is  dead,"  he  answered,  and  after  that  they  sat 
for  some  moments  without  speaking. 

Then  Helga  recovered  herself — her  brain  had  been  going 
like  a  fly-wheel — and  she  said,  scarcely  above  her  breath : 

"  Well,  what  do  you  intend  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  intend  to  go  back,"  said  Oscar. 

"Back  to  Iceland?" 

"  Yes — to  my  mother  and  my  child." 

He  lifted  his  eyes  and  looked  at  her,  and  at  the  sight  of 
her  face,  so  full  of  pain  and  disappointment  the  blood  rushed 
from  his  heart,  and  he  said : 

"  Helga,  why  shouldn't  you  go  with  me  ?  Why  shouldn't 
we  marry  and  go  back  together?  I  know  it  is  a  good  deal  to 
ask,  dear,  but  we  should  be  everything  to  each  other,  and  I 
ohould  make  up  to  you  for  any  sacrifice  by  my  devotion  and 
love.  What  matter  if  we  have  to  forget  our  cherished  dreams 
and  aspirations  ?  Life  is  the  fulfilment  of  duty,  and  our  duty 
is  at  home — mine  is  at  all  events — and  if  you  will  share  it, 
if  you  will  go  back  with  me " 

He  stopped  suddenly  and  dropped  his  head  on  his  hands 
and  his  elbows  on  his  knees.  With  every  word  he  uttered  the 
impossibility  and  folly  of  what  he  proposed  forced  itself  upon 
him,  and  the  blood  that  had  flamed  up  to  his  head  fell  back 
to  the  depths  of  his  heart. 

Helga  sat  a  moment  without  speaking;  then  she  said  in  a 
steady  voice: 

"  I'm  sorry,  very  sorry,  but  it's  impossible !  If  I  had  noth- 
ing and  nobody  else  to  think  about  I  should  have  to  think 
of  ISTeils.  He  has  spent  money  upon  me  and  I  have  given  him 
a  contract,  therefore  I  can't  run  awi^.y  from  him  like  that." 

Oscar  drew  deep,  gasping  breaths  and  answered,  "  Then  I 
must  go  alone.  It  will  be  hard,  terribly  hard,  but  I  must 
go.  There  is  the  mortgage — I  must  take  up  that  burden  now 
that  my  father  is  gone — I  can  not  let  anybody  else  be  borne 
down  by  it.  And  then  there  is  the  child — I've  not  done  too 
much  for  her  hitherto,  and  it  is  my  duty,  my  sacred  duty " 

"  The  child  is  all  right,  Oscar.  Aunt  Margret  is  taking 
care  of  her.  Nothing  you  could  do  for  the  little  mite  would 
be  half  as  good  as  is  being  done  for  her  already.  As  for  the 
mortgage,  you  can  bear  that  burden  just  as  well  in  England 


274  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

as  in  Iceland !  Better — far  better !  You'll  earn  more  money 
here — ten  times,  a  hundred  times  more.  And  then  think  of 
the  difficulty  of  beginning  over  again  under  the  old  condi- 
tions. Everybody  must  know  everything  by  this  time.  They 
do — I  know  they  do !  " 

She  rose,  and  standing  over  him  she  stroked  his  hair — the 
uncombed  curls  of  his  fair  hair — and  said,  softly : 

"  No,  no,  dear !  You  can  never  go  back  to  Iceland  until 
you  go  back  rich  and  famous.  And  you  may!  I  say  you 
may !    And  then  I,  too,  perhaps " 

But  he  covered  his  ears  with  his  hands,  for  what  Helga 
was  saying  sounded  like  mockery. 

"  Meantime  you  can  not  think  of  leaving  me — especially 
now  when  I  want  your  help  so  badly — and  when  everything 
depends  upon  it — my  work  and  my  future." 

She  dropped  to  her  knees  by  his  side  and  put  her  arms 
around  his  neck. 

"  Say  you  will  not  leave  me,  dearest !     Say  you  will  not !  " 

She  loaded  him  with  caresses,  she  addressed  him  by  every 
endearing  name,  she  conquered  him.  He  felt  that  the  im- 
pulse to  go  back  to  Iceland — the  impulse  of  duty — was  over- 
come by  the  rapture  of  love,  and  that  he  must  stay  where 
Helga  was,  whatever  happened. 

"  I  belong  to  you,  body  and  soul,  Helga — do  as  you  like 
with  me,"  he  said. 

"  And  you  will  go  to  the  Eiviera  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

If  he  had  known  what  he  was  saying  he  would  rather  have 
called  upon  the  river  to  carry  him  to  its  lowest  depths  and 
count  him  in  the  death-roll  of  its  damned.  But  none  of 
us  can  foresee  the  future.  We  must  all  bow  before  the 
Unknown. 


vni 

The  engagement  on  the  Riviera  was  completely  successful 
and  Oscar  covered  himself  with  honor,  but  when  the  opera 
season  came  to  an  end  he  declined  all  offers  to  come  back. 

Finsen  was  there.     Under  cover  of  professional  and  fra- 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  275 

temal  interest  he  had  made  frequent  visits  to  Oscar  and 
Helga  during  the  course  of  the  season,  and  at  the  close  of  it 
he  was  staying  at  the  same  hotel,  Oscar  was  nervous,  fretful, 
and  unhappy.  The  secret  gnawing  anxiety  which  had  op- 
pressed him  in  London  had  returned  with  redoubled  force. 

Helga's  love  of  the  gaiety  and  grandeur  of  the  life  of  the 
Riviera  was  only  too  evident,  and  Finsen  set  himself  to  feed 
it.  He  fed  it  by  every  art  and  resource  of  a  full  purse  and 
an  open  hand.  Kaces,  regattas,  fetes,  flowers — he  gave  her 
everything  that  was  being  enjoyed  by  other  women  living  in 
abundance.  Oscar  protested,  but  she  laughed  at  his  protests 
or  tried  to  coax  him  out  of  his  jealousy.  Her  caresses  and 
endearments  were  beginning  to  fail  of  their  old  effect.  In 
spite  of  himself  he  was  beginning  to  feel  a  certain  contempt 
for  her,  and  at  some  moments  even  a  sort  of  hatred  which 
tore  his  heart  to  pieces. 

For  his  own  part  Oscar  hated  the  life  of  the  Riviera.  "Wliat 
nature  had  done  for  the  place  was  good,  but  what  man  had 
done  was  bad.  The  soft  air,  the  blue  sky,  the  deep  blue  sea, 
the  smiling  gardens,  the  flowers,  the  oleanders,  the  orange 
groves,  the  scent  of  the  resin  and  then  the  still  nights  and 
the  nightingale — could  anything  be  more  enchanting?  Yet 
this  paradise  of  nature,  this  God-blest  corner  of  the  earth  was 
degraded  by  every  gross  desire  that  was  at  war  with  beauty 
and  art  and  genius  and  the  everlasting  laws  of  life. 

But  Oscar's  hatred  of  the  Riviera  was  due  to  a  cause  more 
personal  than  his  moral  revolt — a  i^oignant  memory  of  the 
past.  In  the  Casino  which  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  gardens, 
beyond  the  brilliant  hall  and  the  noisy  orchestra,  there  was  an 
inner  room,  guarded  by  keen-eyed  door-keepers  and  watched 
by  spies,  where  men  and  women  sat  about  a  green-topped 
table  in  a  dusky  and  clammy  silence ;  and  at  the  end  of  that 
room,  in  the  darkest  part  of  it  there  was  an  alcove,  almost 
covered  by  palms,  where  two  persons  could  sit  unseen.  Helga 
and  he  had  once  sat  there,  and  she  had  pleaded  with  him  to 
do  something  that  his  soul  shrank  from,  and  he  had  done  it. 
"  Why  not  ?  "  she  had  said.  "  He  will  never  hear  of  it,  and  it 
will  only  be  a  matter  of  form.  My  luck  must  change,  it 
must,  and  then  we  will  pay  back  this  money  and  everything 
will  be  wiped  out.    Do,  Oscar,  for  me,  please !  " 


276  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

From  fear  of  reviving  this  memory  Oscar  had  avoided  the 
Casino  during  his  present  visit.  That  was  easy  enough  to  do 
while  the  opera  season  lasted,  but  when  it  was  over,  and  his 
work  no  longer  wanted  him,  it  was  hard  to  see  Helga  go  ofE 
with  Finsen  night  after  night,  and  to  wander  round  the  Ca- 
sino like  an  uneasy  spirit  that  could  find  no  rest  while  they 
were  inside  of  it.  The  jealousy  that  was  rankling  in  his 
breast  could  not  bear  that  ordeal  long  and  when  Helga  said, 
"  What  nonsense !  You  needn't  play — why  should  you  ?  "  he 
followed  her  into  the  gambling-house. 

He  saw  the  usual  sights  there,  and  found  the  usual  company 
gathered  about  the  tables — all  middle-class  whatever  their 
rank  and  station — the  middle-class  financier,  the  middle-class 
millionaire,  the  middle-class  baron,  the  middle-class  peer,  the 
middle-class  duchess  smoking  her  cigarettes,  and  then  the 
prostitute  in  her  feathers  and  the  black-leg  in  his  diamonds, 
as  well  as  reputable  men  and  virtuous  women,  for  the  gam- 
bling-house knows  no  distinctions  of  means  or  morality  or 
intellect  and  is  the  high  court  of  the  devil's  democracy. 

On  the  night  of  Oscar's  first  visit  Helga  played  and  lost; 
and  seeing  the  strained  look  in  her  face  his  very  soul  felt 
sick  and  he  walked  out  into  the  gardens.  On  the  second  night 
she  lost  again  and  he  saw  her  borrow  from  Finsen  who  stood 
behind  her.  On  the  third  night  it  was  Finsen  who  played 
and  he  won  largely,  and  then  Helga,  who  sat  by  his  side, 
seemed  to  be  intoxicated  by  excitement  and  delight. 

Next  day  she  showed  him  a  costly  jewel  which  Finsen  had 
bought  for  her  out  of  his  winnings.  "  For  luck !  "  she  said, 
and  when  Oscar  protested  against  the  present,  she  said : 

"  But  why  shouldn't  I  take  it  ?  Every  penny  he  spends  on 
me  makes  me  more  necessary  to  him  for  the  future.  Come, 
dear,  don't  be  jealous.  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  I  should  have 
to  do  things  that  neither  of  us  could  wish?  " 

At  this,  and  such  as  this,  Oscar's  sense  of  shame  was  chok- 
ing him.  His  feeling  for  Helga  was  now  in  a  perpetual  alter- 
nation between  love  and  hate.  He  loved  her,  he  hated  her, 
he  despised  her,  he  was  proud  of  her,  and  this  red  riot  in  his 
blood  was  driving  him  to  despair. 

At  one  moment  he  thought  her  nature  was  utterly  selfish, 
and  that  she  would  sacrifice  anything  and  anybody  to  gain 


THE   PRODIGAL    SON  277 

her  ends ;  at  the  next  moment  he  believed  she  loved  him  with 
an  unselfish  love,  but  that  her  disposition  was  such  that  she 
had  to  struggle  between  her  love  for  him  and  her  love  for  lux- 
ury and  success,  and  therefore  she  was  as  much  an  object  for 
pity  as  himself. 

Sometimes,  when  he  walked  in  the  gardens  of  the  Casino, 
he  remembered  how  Thora  had  suffered  as  he  was  suffering 
now;  and  then,  while  the  nightingale  sang  unseen  above  his 
head  and  the  peace  of  the  night  soothed  his  soul,  he  told  him- 
self he  was  rightly  punished.  As  he  had  done  so  he  was  being 
done  by,  and  now  the  manly  thing  was  to  leave  Ilelga  and  go 
away;  and  then  if  she  loved  him  she  would  suffer,  too,  and 
that  would  be  his  best  revenge. 

But  at  other  times,  when  he  saw  Helga  wearing  the  brace- 
lets and  brooches  which  Finsen  had  given  her  he  felt  that 
flight  was  impossible;  that  he  must  fight  this  man  with  his 
own  weapons  and  subdue  this  woman  on  her  own  terms. 

Yet  how  was  he  to  do  it?  When  he  asked  himself  that 
question  one  answer,  and  one  only,  came  back  to  him  with 
every  breath  he  drew  in  that  atmosphere  of  gamblers,  the  old, 
delusive,  mocking  answer — he  must  do  it  by  means  of  play. 

But  while  he  had  money  enough  for  his  own  needs  he  had 
none  for  the  gambling-table,  and  it  was  not  at  first  that  he 
saw  a  way  to  the  means  with  which  to  begin.  Suddenly  an 
idea  came  to  him — he  would  make  the  man  himself  find  the 
means — and  without  waiting  to  consider  this,  without  paus- 
ing to  count  the  cost,  with  his  pulses  throbbing  painfully 
and  his  heart  leaping  with  a  devilish  joy,  he  hurried  into  the 
Casino  and  drew  Finsen  aside  to  the  alcove  covered  by  palms, 
and  said,  in  a  false  and  tremulous  voice: 

"  Old  friend,  do  you  remember  the  first  time  I  called  on  you 
at  Covent  Garden  ?  " 

"  When  you  said  you  were  starving — perfectly." 

"  You  offered  me  something  if  I  would  sell  you  some  com* 
positions  of  mine  that  are  buried  in  Iceland." 

"  And  you  said  you  would  die  in  a  ditch  first." 

"  Would  you  still  be  disposed  to  take  your  chance  with 
them?" 

"  Why  not  ?  My  father  is  Minister  now — ^there  ought  to  be 
no  difficulty." 


278  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  And  you  would  be  prepared  to  pay  me  the  money  at 
once  ? " 

"  Certainly — as  soon  as  you  are  ready  to  sign  the  necessary 
authorization." 

"  I'm  ready  to  sign  it  now,"  said  Oscar  in  the  same  tremu- 
lous voice. 

Within  ten  minutes  everything  was  settled,  and  Oscar  was 
pocketing  the  notes  that  were  being  paid  on  Finsen's  account 
from  the  treasury  of  the  Casino.  His  hands  were  trembling, 
his  lips  quivering,  and  his  face  was  white. 

"  So  you're  caught  by  the  fever  at  last,  old  fellow,"  laughed 
Finsen.  "  And  what  you  wouldn't  do  before  to  feed  your 
stomach,  you  are  doing  now  to  feed  your  luck," 

"  Just  so,  to  feed  my  luck,"  said  Oscar. 

That  night  Oscar  played  carefully  and  won.  The  following 
night  he  played  more  freely  and  won  again.  On  the  third 
night  he  took  the  bank  and  won  once  more.  He  took  the  bank 
on  the  fourth,  fifth,  sixth,  and  many  succeeding  nights  with 
the  same  result.  Such  a  rapid  and  unbroken  run  of  luck 
had  scarcely  ever  been  seen.  The  manager  of  the  Casino,  a 
plausible  person  with  a  rubicund  face,  congratulated  Oscar. 
The  "  house  "  had  rarely  had  a  banker  so  popular  as  well  as 
so  fortunate,  and  it  rejoiced  in  his  success. 

Meantime  Oscar  was  never  for  a  moment  his  own  man.  He 
seemed  to  be  laboring  under  a  wild  intoxication  of  soul.  In 
a  fortnight  he  had  become  rich,  but  he  had  no  love  for  money 
for  himself  and  he  heaped  it  upon  Helga.  There  were  pres- 
ents to  outshine  Finsen's,  excursions  in  steam  launches  and  in 
automobiles  and  even  some  social  entGrtainments.  The  win- 
some and  remarkable-looking  young  leader  of  the  opera,  with 
his  handsome  if  reckless  sister-in-law,  became  objects  of  at- 
tention. They  gave  one  or  two  dinners  in  the  restaurant  of 
the  Casino,  where  the  rich  of  all  nations  ate  their  food  in  the 
glitter  of  a  thousand  diamonds  and  to  the  music  of  an  or- 
chestra in  red  coats  and  black  silk  stockings. 

Then  the  change  came — the  inevitable  change.  One  night 
it  became  evident  that  the  tide  of  Oscar's  luck  had  turned. 
He  did  not  flinch — he  doubled  his  risk  and  played  on.  The 
ebb  set  in  with  frightful  rapidity,  and  every  night  he  in- 
creased his  stakes,  and  lost  his  money  with  a  smile.    At  the 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  279 

end  of  a  week  Helga,  who  had  been  transported  with  rapture 
became  pallid  with  alarm. 

'*'  Your  luck  is  leaving  you — hadn't  you  better  stop  ?  "  she 
said,  but  he  would  not  listen. 

He  touched  bottom  at  last.  Sitting  in  his  usual  seat  he 
called  for  fresh  counters,  and  said  with  a  laugh,  "  Life  or 
death — this  is  my  last." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  ?  "  said  Helga,  and  he  nodded  and 
laughed  again. 

Finsen  had  been  punting  silently  at  the  other  side  of  the 
table,  and  now  Helga  went  over  to  him  and  stood  behind  his 
chair.  It  was  only  the  straw  that  told  how  the  wind  was 
blowing,  but  Oscar  saw  it  and  his  twitching  face  grew  red. 

The  inscrutable  gods  of  chance  seemed  to  hover  over  the 
table.  A  greater  risk  than  that  of  money  depended  on  the 
issue  of  the  next  coup,  and  both  men  knew  it. 

When  the  cards  had  been  cut  Oscar  served  them  slowly, 
very  slowly,  and  when  he  came  to  the  last  card  his  trembling 
fingers  seemed  loath  to  turn  it.  He  turned  it  at  last  with  a 
rapid  movement  and  at  the  same  moment  he  rose  from  his 
seat  and  laughed. 

He  had  lost,  and  the  clammy  silence  was  broken. 

"  Are  you  going  ? "  asked  Helga,  in  a  listless  tone,  with 
wandering  eyes. 

"Certainly.    And  you?" 

"  Not  yet — Neils  is  winning  splendidly." 

Then  in  a  moment,  as  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  his 
month-long  intoxication  of  soul  left  him  and  he  saw  where 
he  was  and  what  he  had  done.  He  had  taken  money  from 
Finsen  to  permit  the  grave  of  his  wife  to  be  opened,  and  he 
had  gambled  with  that  money  and  lost  it! 

When  he  saw  things  in  this  way  he  could  scarcely  stand 
upright,  but  with  an  effort  he  walked  out  of  the  gambling- 
room,  down  the  corridor  where  the  spies  were  watching,  past 
the  restaurant  where  the  sluggards  were  smoking,  through  the 
hall  where  the  band  was  playing  and  out  into  the  garden. 

There  he  looked  for  a  dark  place  and  sat  on  a  bench  under 
a  tree.  The  night  was  clear  and  quiet,  the  stars  were  out,  and 
the  sea  was  singing  in  the  distance,  but  he  could  hear  nothing 
except  an  owl  that  was  hooting  somewhere  in  the  eaves.    Oh, 


280  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

for  the  snows  of  his  own  country  to  cool  his  hot  forehead! 
Oh,  for  the  storms  of  Iceland  to  silence  the  babel  in  his 
brain ! 

When  he  thought  of  his  conduct  he  hated  himself,  and 
when  he  remembered  his  temptation  he  hated  Helga  also. 
The  one  hatred  counteracted  the  other  or  he  would  have  de- 
stroyed himself.  He  must  live,  if  only  to  subdue  Helga,  to 
bring  her  to  his  feet  and  then  to  cast  her  off  forever! 

How  was  he  to  do  this?  There  was  one  way,  but  it  was 
closed  to  him — closed  by  the  vow  he  had  made  when  he  stood 
by  the  open  coffin  of  his  wife  and,  in  punishment  of  himself 
for  having  neglected  her  and  sinned  against  her,  he  had 
sworn  before  God  to  bury  his  ambitions  in  her  grave  and 
never  write  another  line  of  music  as  long  as  he  lived. 

If  he  could  only  wipe  out  that  vow,  if  he  could  only  begin 
again,  if  he  could  only  say  to  himself  some  day,  "  Oscar 
Stephenson  is  dead !  "  But  that  could  never  be  and  Oscar 
Stephenson  must  go  on  to  the  end,  trailing  the  slag  of  his 
burned-out  life  behind  him. 

Deciding  to  return  to  England  immediately,  he  walked 
back  to  the  hotel  and  asked  for  his  bill.  When  it  was  given 
to  him  he  found  that  the  money  remaining  in  his  purse  was 
hardly  sufficient  to  discharge  his  debt  and  pay  the  expense  of 
his  journey.  Without  a  moment's  thought  he  sat  down  and 
wrote  to  Helga : 

"  Dear  Helga  : — I  want  to  go  back  to  London  by  the  mid- 
night train  and  I  find  I  am  a  little  short  for  my  railway 
ticket.  Send  me  a  hundred  francs  by  the  messenger  who 
brings  you  this  letter,  and  for  mercy's  sake  do  not  keep  him 
too  long  waiting — I  can  not  live  in  this  place  another  night. 

"  Oscar." 

He  had  lavished  so  many  presents  upon  her  that  he  never 
dreamt  she  could  refuse  him,  but  this  was  the  answer  that 
came  back : 

"  I^arest  Oscar  : — How  unlucky !  I've  just  this  very  min- 
ute lost  my  last  sou,  and  you  don't  like  me  to  borrow  Irona 


THE    PEODIGAL    SON  281 

Finsen.    But,  you  bad  boy,  you  can  not  be  in  earnest  about 
going  off  at  midnight.     It's  impossible!     Your  devoted 

"  Helga." 

Oscar  had  nothing  that  he  could  turn  into  money  except 
his  watch,  and  that  was  his  father's  gift  and  all  he  had  to 
remember  him  by,  but  after  a  sharp  struggle  he  called  for  the 
manager,  and  parted  with  his  keepsake. 

When  his  bill  was  paid  and  his  luggage  ready,  the  clock 
across  the  gardens  was  striking  eleven.  lie  had  still  an  hour 
to  spare,  and  bitterly  as  he  felt  toward  Helga  he  could  not 
go  away  without  saying  good-by  to  her,  so  he  walked  for 
that  purpose  by  the  shore  road  to  the  side  door  of  the 
Casino. 

It  was  there  that  his  fate  encountered  him. 


IX 

As  he  was  going  into  the  Casino  he  met  the  manager,  who 
greeted  him  effusively. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Stephenson,  they  told  me  you  were  going  away — 
I'm  glad  to  see  it  isn't  true !  " 

"  It  is  quite  true,  sir,"  said  Oscar. 

"  Why  should  you  ?    The  season  isn't  at  an  end  yet." 

"But  my  money  is,"  said  Oscar;  whereupon  the  manager 
laughed,  put  his  arm  through  Oscar's  and  walked  back  with 
him  toward  the  baccarat-room,  whispering: 

"  Mr.  Stephenson,  I  told  you  the  house  liked  to  see  you 
take  the  bank.  The  game  is  good  when  you  are  in  the  chair. 
Now  there  are  a  few  gentlemen  here  to-night  who  would 
play  high  if  they  had  the  proper  inducement.  Don't  go,  Mr. 
Stephenson." 

"  But  I'm  penniless — don't  you  understand  me  ? — penni- 
less." 

"  Come  this  way." 

They  were  in  the  baccarat-room  by  this  time  and  the  man- 
ager was  drawing  Oscar  toward  the  alcove. 

"  I  must  ask  you  to  excuse  me.    I  have  a  lady  to  speak  to, 
and  my  train  to  catch,"  said  Oscar. 
19 


282  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  Listen  for  a  moment,"  said  the  manager,  and  then  with 
a  glance  toward  the  company  who  stood  absorbed  and  silent 
under  the  bright  light  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  he  added, 
in  a  low  voice,  "  Mr.  Stephenson,  I  suggest  that  you  return 
to  the  table  and  take  the  bank.  When  you  call  for  counters 
they  will  be  provided.  If  you  lose  your  first  coup  the  loss 
Avill  be  the  loss  of  the  house,  and  if  you  win  the  gain  will 
be  your  own." 

Oscar  laughed,  and  chopping  the  air  impatiently  with  a 
pair  of  gloves  which  he  carried  in  his  hand,  he  said,  "  Do 
you  run  this  house  on  philanthropic  lines  then  ?  " 

"  Hush !  At  your  second  coup  you  will  call  for  fresh  cards 
as  you  have  a  right  to  do,  and  when  you  receive  them  you — 
you  will  win.    You  understand  me?    You  will  win!" 

The  impatient  chopping  ceased  and  Oscar  stood  looking 
steadfastly  at  the  man's  eyes. 

"  At  your  next  coup  and  your  next  you  will  call  for  cards 
as  before  and  at  the  end  of  your  fourth  coup  you  will  rise 
from  the  table." 

"And  then?" 

"  Then  you  will  divide  your  earnings  with  the  house,  and 
be  richer  than  you  have  ever  been  in  your  life." 

Oscar  had  listened  first  with  astonishment,  then  with  in- 
dignation, and  finally  with  ungovernable  wrath.  "  How  dare 
you?  What  do  you  take  me  for? "  he  said  in  a  loud,  choking 
voice,  and  lifting  his  hand  he  smote  the  man  with  his  gloves 
across  his  ruddy  and  smiling  face. 

The  unexpectedness  of  the  attack  compelled  the  manager 
to  utter  a  startled  cry,  and  in  a  moment  the  people  from  the 
table  were  crowding  round,  asking,  "  What  is  it  ? "  What's 
happened  ? " 

But  the  manager  recovered  himself  in  an  instant  and  said : 
"It's  nothing!  The  gentleman  misunderstood  something  I 
was  saying  to  him.    I  beg  of  you  to  resume  the  play." 

Helga  had  come  up  with  the  rest,  and  when  the  others  had 
returned  to  the  table  she  drew  Oscar  into  the  alcove  and 
said :  "  Tell  me  what  occurred." 

He  told  her,  and  still  trembling  with  unsatisfied  anger, 
he  added :  "  This  is  what  I  have  come  down  to,  Helga — that 
a  man  can  think  it  safe  to  make  a  proposal  to  me  like  that ! 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  283 

Can  you  wonder  that  I  want  to  get  out  of  this  place — this 
atmosphere  of  cheats  and  cheating?  And  yet  people  talk  of 
the  honor  of  the  gamhling-house !  They  might  as  well  talk  of 
the  morality  of  hell." 

Helga  was  sitting  with  her  head  down  and  her  fingers — 
■which  sparkled  with  some  of  Oscar's  presents — interlaced 
upon  her  knee. 

"  You  might  have  spared  me  one  of  these,  Helga,"  he  said, 
touching  her  rings.  "  We  could  have  replaced  it  some  day, 
whereas  I've  had  to  part  with  the  watch  my  father  gave  me, 
and  I  can  never  replace  that." 

"  I  didn't  want  you  to  go,  Oscar,  that's  why  I  didn't  send 
you  the  hundred  francs — I  didn't  want  you  to  go  away  with- 
out me." 

"Do  you  mean  that,  Helga?  Really  mean  it?  You  do? 
Then  come  with  me  now !  I  came  to  say  good-by,  but  how 
can  I  leave  you  behind  in  a  place  like  this?  It  will  destroy 
you  as  it  has  destroyed  others.  It  will  sap  away  your  health 
and  spirit  and  talent  and  charm  and  everything  a  woman 
wants  to  keep.  Helga,"  he  said,  rising  to  his  feet,  "  I  am. 
nearly  distracted  by  what  has  occurred  to-night,  but  I  know 
what  I  am  saying.  If  you  will  throw  in  your  lot  with  me 
— with  me  only — I  will  devote  my  whole  life  to  your  welfare, 
and  do  everything  you  wish.  If  there  is  anything  you  want  me 
to  do  for  you  I  will  do  it.    Do  you  understand  me,  Helga  ? " 

"  Yes,  Oscar." 

"  Then  let  us  go  back  to  London — to  our  own  world,  our 
own  work,  Helga." 

"I  should  like  to — dearly  like  to." 

"  Then  why  not  ?  " 

"If  I  throw  in  my  lot  with  you — with  you  only — I  must 
break  with  Finsen — and  I'm  in  Finsen's  debt. 

"I  know!    Oh,  I  know!" 

"  If  I  could  only  repay  him  somehow !  But  I  have  noth- 
ing!" 

"  You  have  your  jewels,  Helga." 

"  They  are  not  enough.  And  besides,  how  could  I  part 
with  a  present  of  yours,  Oscar  ?  But  if  there  were  any  other 
way  of  getting  money " 

"  Helga,  what  are  you  thinking  of  ?  " 


2&4  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  I  am  thinking  that  if  this  is  an  atmosphere  of  cheats  and 
cheating  perhaps  you  have  been  cheated  also." 

"  Ilelga !  "    His  voice  was  tremulous  with  protest. 

"  Would  it  be  so  very  wrong  to  do  to  them  as  they  have 
done  to  you,  Oscar  ?  " 

"  Helga !  Ilelga !  "  His  tremulous  voice  was  breaking 
into  gasps  of  helplessness. 

"  I  suppose  it  would,  but  how  happy  I  should  be  if  we 
could  go  back  together,  and  live  for  each  other  and  our  art, 
and  have  nothing  and  nobody  else  to  think  about !  " 

Oscar  was  standing  by  her  side  and  quivering  like  a  fright- 
ened horse.  There  were  some  moments  of  silence  in  which 
nothing  could  be  heard  but  the  call  of  the  croupier  in  the 
middle  of  the  room.  Then  a  waiter  went  noiselessly  by  the 
mouth  of  the  alcove  carrying  an  empty  tray  to  his  own 
quarters,  and  by  a  sudden  impulse,  in  a  thick  croupy  voice 
Oscar  called  to  him: 

"  GarQon !  My  compliments  to  the  manager !  Say  I  am 
sorry  for  what  occurred  just  now,  and  if  he  is  still  of  the 
same  mind  I  will  take  the  bank." 

A  few  minutes  later  Oscar,  who  had  thrown  off  his  overcoat 
and  hat,  was  taking  the  banker's  chair  at  the  baccarat-table. 
The  people  seated  about  it  welcomed  him  with  nods  and 
smiles,  and  when  he  called  for  counters  and  received  a  huge 
pile  of  ivory  ones  a  bald-headed  man  with  a  sinister  face 
said,  "  I  congratulate  you,  sir !  It  isn't  everybody  who  can 
revive  his  credit  as  quickly  as  that." 

"  What  does  it  mean?  "  whispered  Finsen  to  Helga,  where^ 
upon  Helga  whispered  back: 

"  Don't  ask  me  yet,"  and  then  she  walked  up  to  Oscar  and 
stood  close  behind  his  chair. 

There  were  a  few  strange  faces  about  the  table,  including 
an  English  lord  and  an  American  financier.  The  manager 
of  the  Casino  stood  watching  from  the  back.  Stakes  were 
high  for  the  first  coup  and  the  bank  lost  it. 

"  I'm  afraid  the  luck  is  still  against  you,  sir,"  said  the 
bald-headed  man. 

"I'll  try  again,"  said  Oscar.     "Fresh  cards,  please!" 

The  stakes  were  higher  for  the  second  coup,  and  the  bank 
won  it. 


THE    PEODIGAL    SON  285 

"  That's  better,"  said  the  bald-headed  man. 

"  Another  pack  of  cards,  please !  "  said  Oscar. 

When  the  money  was  on  the  table  for  the  third  coup  it  was 
seen  to  be  double  what  it  had  been  for  the  second.  The  bank 
won  once  more. 

"  But  this  is  like  your  old  luck,  sir,"  said  the  bald-headed 
man. 

"  Another  pack !  "  cried  Oscar,  and  he  swept  all  his  win- 
nings into  the  bank. 

The  money  for  the  fourth  coup  was  four  times  what  it  had 
been  for  the  third.  The  bank  won  again,  and  then  Oscar 
rose  from  the  table. 

"  But  aren't  you  going  to  give  us  our  revenge,  sir  ? "  asked 
the  American. 

"  This  is  mine,"  said  Oscar,  as  he  left  the  chair. 

Helga's  face  was  quivering  with  excitement  and  delight. 
There  were  tears  in  her  eyes  as  she  congratulated  Oscar,  and 
she  looked  as  if  she  were  going  to  kiss  him. 

"  If  you  will  step  this  way,  Mr.  Stephenson — "  the  man- 
ager's suave  voice  was  saying,  when  all  at  once  a  commo- 
tion broke  out  behind. 

"  Croupier,"  said  a  voice  with  a  nasal  accent,  "  I  will 
trouble  you  to  examine  them  cards,"  whereupon  the  manager 
swung  round  with  an  aggrieved  expression. 

"  Surely,  sir,  you  do  not  mean  to  say,  to  imply " 

"  I  can  only  say  I'll  trouble  the  croupier  to  examine  them 
last  three  packs  of  cards." 

In  the  confusion  that  followed  Finsen  came  up  to  Helga, 
who  was  now  trembling  by  Oscar's  side  and  said :  "  You  had 
better  let  me  take  you  out  of  this." 

Oscar  saw  Helga  hesitate,  then  take  one  step  away  from 
him  and  stop,  but  when  somebody  in  the  throng  about  the 
table  cried  excitedly :  "  The  bank  ought  to  be  impounded," 
he  saw  her  drop  her  head  and  follow  Finsen  out  of  the 
room. 

"  Come  this  way,  Mr.  Stephenson,"  whispered  the  man- 
ager, and  while  most  of  the  company  were  still  crowding 
about  the  croupier  he  half -led,  half-pushed  Oscar  through 
a  small  door  to  a  private  corridor,  and  a  moment  afterward 
there  was  a  roar  from  the  other  side  of  it. 


286  THE    PEODIGAL    SON 

"  Stay  here.  Leave  everything  to  me.  I'll  do  the  best  I 
can,"  said  the  manager,  and  then  Oscar  found  himself  alone 
in  a  small  room,  quite  dark  and  silent,  save  for  the  glimmer- 
ing of  lamps  in  the  garden  and  the  deadened  rumble  of  the 
tumult  he  had  left  behind. 

How  long  he  stayed  there  he  never  knew.  It  seemed  like 
an  hour,  but  it  could  hardly  have  been  more  than  a  few  min- 
utes. The  tumult  grew  louder,  then  there  was  the  report 
of  a  pistol-shot,  and  then  the  noises  frayed  oS  to  silence. 

Unable  to  restrain  himself  any  longer,  and  delirious  with 
a  wild  desire  to  face  the  consequences  of  his  conduct,  what- 
ever they  might  be,  Oscar  was  opening  the  door  of  his  room 
when  the  manager  returned  to  it,  bringing  his  hat,  over- 
coat, and  gloves. 

"  I've  done  the  best  I  could  for  you,"  said  the  manager, 
panting  and  gasping.  "  I  have  told  them  j'ou  have  shot  your- 
self, and  your  friends  have  supported  that  explanation.  You 
must  get  away  at  once.  You  must  ca^'^^ch  the  midnight  train 
to  Paris.  You've  only  four  minutes,  but  you'll  do  it  if  you 
run.  Here  is  a  second-class  ticket  to  London.  Good  night ! 
And  remember,"  said  the  man,  as  Oscar  was  passing  through 
a  private  door  to  the  garden,  "  remember — Oscar  Stephenson 
is  dead." 


Oscar  was  just  able  to  control  his  faculties  long  enough 
to  reach  the  railway-station,  find  the  train,  and  search  out  an 
empty  second-class  c'ompartment  and  then  he  collapsed  ut- 
terly. He  was  like  a  beast  that  has  been  smitten  in  the 
shambles  and  is  shattered  in  every  sense  and  nerve. 

Looking  up  at  the  lamp  in  the  roof  and  seeing  smoke  float- 
ing above  it,  he  thought  at  first  the  carriage  must  be  afire, 
but  looking  again  the  smoke  was  gone  and  then  he  knew  his 
sight  had  suffered  and  he  supposed  he  must  be  going  blind. 
There  was  a  roaring  noise  in  his  ears  and  he  thought  it  was 
the  roaring  of  the  train,  but  when  the  train  stopped  the  noise 
continued,  and  then  he  knew  that  his  hearing  was  injured 
and  he  supposed  he  must  be  going  deaf.  Two  ofiicials  came 
into  the  carriage  to  examine  the  tickets,  but  though  he  saw 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  2S7 

their  lips  moving  he  could  not  bear  what  they  said,  or  rightly 
grasp  what  they  wanted,  until  they  were  turning  to  go,  and 
then  the  noise  in  his  head  slid  off  for  a  moment  and  he  heard 
one  of  them  say  to  the  other,  "  Drunk,  poor  devil ! "' 

This  lasted  through  the  dark  hours  of  the  night,  and  when 
the  morning  dawned  his  experiences  were  yet  more  terrible. 
At  the  first  gleam  of  light  his  stunned  soul  awoke,  and  with 
a  sharp  pain  like  the  after-pain  of  a  bullet  wound,  he  realized 
where  he  was  and  what  he  was  doing.  He  was  flying  from 
the  consequences  of  perhaps  the  most  base  and  infamous 
conduct  a  man  could  be  capable  of — conduct  the  more  base 
and  infamous  because  there  was  no  law  to  punish  it. 

Low  as  he  had  sunk  hitherto  he  had  never  sunk  so  low  as 
this.  This  was  as  low  as  man  could  go  and  live  in  the  face 
of  other  men  and  the  eye  of  the  light.  And  he  had  descended 
to  this  depth,  he,  Oscar  Stephenson,  son  of  the  Governor 
of  his  country !  When  he  thought  of  his  father  he  thanked 
God  that  death  had  taken  him  before  this  disgrace  befell. 

Every  arteiy  in  his  body  seemed  to  bleed,  every  tendon 
^o  be  torn.  When  the  sun  rose  on  him  in  his  ghastly  soli- 
tude it  seemed  to  sere  his  very  brain  and  he  pulled  the  blind 
down  to  shut  it  out. 

Then  the  women  passengers  began  to  move  about  the  cor- 
ridor of  the  train  and  he  thought  of  Helga.  Although  it 
seemed  so  long  ago  as  almost  to  belong  to  another  existence, 
he  could  still  see  her  frightened  face  as  she  sidled  away 
from  him  last  night  and  left  him  standing  alone  at  that 
hideous  moment  when  it  seemed  certain  that  he  must  pay 
the  penalty  of  the  offense  to  which  she  had  tempted  him. 
He  despised  her  for  her  cowardice;  he  loathed  her  for  her 
treachery;  he  hated  her  for  herself;  and  he  told  himself  that 
never  again  as  long  as  he  lived  should  love  of  Helga  hold 
dominion  over  him. 

At  one  moment  he  found  himself  cursing  her.  At  the 
next  he  found  himself  weeping.  Could  it  be  Helga  whom 
he  was  thinking  of  like  this  ?  Helga,  who  had  been  so  much 
to  him  during  so  many  years,  who  had  come  so  very  close 
to  him,  nearer  than  his  father,  nearer  than  his  mother, 
nearer — Heaven  forgive  him! — than  his  wife  or  child? 
Helga,  who  had  been  with  him  early  and  late,  a  soft  voice 


288  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

always  at  his  ear,  a  sweet  presence  always  at  his  heart,  a 
spirit,  a  support,  an  inspiration  ?  Helga,  whom  he  had  loved 
and  should  always  love,  let  her  do  what  she  would  with  him, 
let  him  do  what  he  would  with  her?  God  pity  him!  God 
help  him ! 

Yet  his  tenderness  and  tears  were  stronger  than  his  hatred 
and  rage,  and  he  resolved  that  for  her  perfidy  and  selfish- 
ness, Helga  should  be  punished,  and  that  he  should  punish 
her,  Thei'e  was  no  longer  any  need  to  ask  himself  how  this 
was  to  be  done.  The  words  that  had  rumbled  in  his  ears 
like  the  roll  of  a  muffled  drum  when  ho  ran  from  the  gar- 
dens of  the  Casino  were  rumbling  in  his  ears  still.  Oscar 
Stephenson  is  dead!  At  first  he  could  not  be  sure  that  the 
manager  had  really  spoken  them,  so  exactly  did  they  echo 
the  wish  that  had  been  bubbling  within  his  oaati  breast.  But 
Oscar  Stephenson  was  dead  indeed,  and  the  words  that 
might  have  crushed  him  with  shame  moved  him  more  than 
a  trumpet. 

If  Oscar  Stephenson  was  dead,  then  the  vow  he  had  made 
in  Thora's  death-chamber  was  dead  also!  That  vow  had 
been  intended  to  punish  himself  for  his  infidelity  and  for 
all  his  failures  of  love  and  duty,  by  denying  himself  the 
gratification  of  his  greatest  pride,  the  realization  of  his 
highest  hopes.  But  what  pride  could  be  gratified  and  what 
hopes  realized  to  Oscar  Stephenson  if  his  name  was  wiped 
out,  his  identity  lost,  and  he  was  dead  to  all  the  world  except 
himself  ? 

The  feverish  soul  in  its  hour  of  sufi'ering  found  the  rea- 
soning sufficient,  and  Oscar  thought  he  saw  as  in  a  glass 
everything  that  he  had  to  do.  He  had  to  take  another 
name,  to  bury  himself  in  London  and  to  set  to  work  on  the 
only  task  he  was  fit  for!  He  had  to  write  an  opera,  as  he 
was  now  free  to  do,  since  Oscar  Stephenson  was  dead,  and 
he  was  living  in  the  name  of  another  man. 

The  scene  was  to  be  in  his  own  country,  among  the  lone- 
some grandeur  of  its  untrodden  glaciers  and  the  stark  sub- 
limity of  its  burned-out  plains,  and  the  story  was  to  be  from 
one  of  the  fiery  Sagas  of  the  same  stem  old  land.  And 
when,  after  many  days,  many  months,  perhaps  years,  eating 
the  bread  of  poverty  in  loneliness  and  obscurity,  he  had 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  289 

finished  his  task,  and  had  sent  it  out  like  a  dove  from  the 
ark,  men  were  to  know  that  a  new  voice  had  come  among 
them  and  the  name  of  Iceland  was  to  be  on  the  lips  of  the 
world. 

Then  when  people  asked  each  other,  who  was  he  that  in 
the  darkness  of  years  of  labor  had  learned  all  the  art  and 
mj'stery  of  music,  he  would  give  no  sign  because  his  lips 
would  be  sealed,  but  there  would  be  one  who  would  read  his 
secret.  It  would  be  Helga,  and  she  would  come  back  to 
him  in  shame  if  not  remorse  and  throw  herself  at  his  feet 
and  cry :  "  I  did  wrong,  forgive  me,  and  take  me  back  to 
your  heart !  " 

And  then  he  would  answer  and  say :  "  You  came  between 
me  and  my  sweet  young  wife;  you  persuaded  me  to  the  act 
that  broke  her  heart  and  killed  her;  you  tempted  me  to  the 
crime  that  ruined  my  father  and  to  the  offense  that  de- 
stroyed myself,  and  then  you  left  me  to  bear  my  punishment 
alone.  Therefore,  I  have  wiped  you  out  of  my  life;  I  have 
cut  you  off  as  I  would  cut  off  a  rotten  limb  that  threatened 
to  drag  the  whole  body  down  to  death.  I  love  you — yes,  I 
can  never  cease  to  love  you — that  is  the  punishment  I  shall 
always  bear — but  there  can  be  nothing  more  between  us — 
we  part  now  forever — your  course  lies  that  way,  mine  this. 
Farewell !  " 

As  the  train  rolled  along  he  found  a  delirious  joy  in  this 
prospect,  which  began  and  ended  with  the  idea  that  Oscar 
Stephenson  was  dead.  In  the  light  of  that  thought  he  looked 
back  on  the  past  of  his  life  and  many  things  that  had  been 
hard  to  understand  became  plain.  Again  and  again  he  had 
tried  to  stop  on  his  downward  course  and  he  could  not  do 
so.  Before  he  could  rise  out  of  the  degradation  of  his  past 
life  he  had  had  to  drink  his  cup  to  the  dregs,  to  go  down 
to  the  depths,  to  be  covered  by  darkness  and  the  shadow 
of  death !  But  at  last  Oscar  Stephenson  was  dead !  Thank 
God!     Thank  God! 

How  strange  that  at  the  moment  when  Helga  was  tempt- 
ing him  to  the  infamous  act,  which  if  it  had  succeeded 
would  have  made  him  her  slave  and  the  slave  of  sin  forever, 
she  was  leading  him  by  one  of  Death's  terrific  strides  to  life 
and  liberty!     How  mysterious  and  how  mighty,  aye,  and 


290  THE    TRODIGAL    SOlC 

how  cj'nical  also,  wei'c  the  powers  of  Destiuy,  whose  super- 
natural wings  hovered  over  the  lives  of  nuiu  and  women  and 
moved  their  little  motives  of  love  and  hate  and  revenge  and 
selfishness  like  pawns  on  the  chess-board  of  Fate! 

It  was  in  this  mood  he  reached  Paris,  and  having  some 
three  hours  to  wait  before  his  train  started  for  Calais,  he 
walked  through  the  streets  until  he  came  to  the  center  of 
the  city,  and  then  sat  outside  a  cafe  to  eat  a  roll  of  bread 
and  drink  a  cup  of  coffee.  It  was  six  o'clock,  and  the  news- 
vendc-£  were  crying  the  evening  papers.  He  bought  one 
to  beguile  the  time  of  waiting,  and  had  not  yet  opened  it 
when  he  saw  his  own  name  standing  out  from  the  front  page 
as  if  it  had  been  printed  in  a  different  ink. 

For  some  moments  thereafter  a  mist  seemed  to  float  be- 
tween the  newspaper  and  his  eyes,  but  he  read  the  para- 
graph at  last. 

It  was  a  telegram  from  Nice,  headed :  "  Suicide  in  a 
Casino,"  giving  a  mangled  version  of  th^  events  of  last 
night,  clearly  inspired  by  the  manager  to  protect  himself 
and  his  house,  and  closing  with  the  words : 

"  The  deceased,  who  was  from  Iceland,  is  understood  to 
be  a  son  of  the  late  much- respected  Governor-General  of  that 
coimtiy." 

XI 

The  paper  slipped  from  Oscar's  fingers  and  his  transport 
of  rapture  passed.  He  told  himself  that  this  report  would 
go  far,  that  it  would  reach  Iceland,  that  his  mother  w'ould 
hear  of  it,  and  that  his  child  would  be  told  that  she  was 
fatherless. 

Little  Elin  was  too  young  to  feel  grief,  but  could  he  allow 
his  mother  to  believe  that  he  was  dead  and  to  weep  for 
him  as  t<,r  one  who  vras  lost  to  her  forever?  That  would 
be  too  cruel;  it  would  be  impossible;  he  would  write  to  his 
mother  immediately;  he  would  write  priv.atcly  saying  he 
was  still  alive  and  that  part  of  the  report  was  untrue. 

But  then  came  the  chilling  thought  that  though  he  might 
dispose  of  the  fiction  of  his  death  he  could  not  get  rid  of  the 
fact  of  his  offense,  and  that  when  his  mother  pictured  him 


THE    PEODIGAL    SON  291 

as  one  who  was  flying  from  the  consequences  of  his  conduct, 
skulking  in  a  slum  and  hiding  his  face  from  the  faces  of 
his  friends,  there  would  be  something  in  the  shame  of  that 
end  more  bitter  than  death  itself,  and  even  his  own  mother 
would  wish  that  he  had  died. 

He  had  not  thought  of  this  before,  and  in  the  confusion 
and  pain  of  it  he  got  up  from  the  table  at  the  cafe  and  be- 
gan to  walk  the  streets  again.  After  a  while  he  found  him- 
self ascending  the  steps  of  the  Madeline,  hardly  knowing 
what  he  was  doing,  except  that  he  was  trj-ing  to  pass  the 
time  by  following  a  stream  of  people  into  the  building. 

It  was  the  hour  of  Benediction,  the  most  beautiful,  the 
most  tender,  the  most  moving  of  all  the  offices  of  the 
Catholic  Church.  The  congregation  were  chiefly  women, 
and  among  ladies  in  silks,  whose  carriages  stood  outside, 
were  some  flower-sellers  from  the  flower-market  round  the 
comer,  for  there  is  only  one  caste  in  the  commune  of  the 
Cross.  One  poor  woman  who  took  a  chair  and  knelt  close 
beside  Oscar,  had  the  sad  and  storm-beaten  face  that  the 
Cross  draws  to  it  in  eveiy  church  in  the  country,  for  its 
empire  is  the  empire  of  the  oppressed  and  bereaved  and 
broken-hearted. 

"  Somehody''s  mother,"  thought  Oscar,  as  she  crossed  her- 
self and  sighed.  But  w'hen  she  raised  her  weary  eyes  to  the 
figure  of  the  world-mother  above  the  altar,  her  sad  face 
softened  and  smiled  and  it  was  almost  as  if  an  angel  had 
come  down  and  whispered  to  her. 

Then  as  the  sweet  music  swelled  through  the  great  church 
the  hard  lump  rose  to  Oscar's  throat,  and  thinking  of  his 
own  mother  so  far  away,  he  told  himself  that  if  she  believed. 
he  was  really  dead  the  angel  of  Death  would  comfort  her. 
His  faults  would  be  forgiven,  his  errors  would  be  forgotten, 
and  the  dust  of  death  would  cover  all  his  transgressions. 
She  would  be  happier  in  his  death  than  she  had  ever  been  in 
his  life,  and  though  it  was  a  sore  thing  to  think  of  that,  the 
pain  would  be  his,  not  hers,  and  her  poor  heart  would  be 
at  ease. 

He  thought  of  Magnus,  too,  how  his  hatred  would  be  ap- 
peased when  he  heard  that  his  brother  w^as  dead,  and  all  the 
flames  of  his  rage  extinguished.     Then  he  thought  of  his 


292  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

enemies  at  home,  how  they  would  cease  to  revile  him,  and 
how  he  would  pass  out  of  shame,  reproach,  and  contempt 
into  the  charity  of  silence  and  the  peace  of  forgetfulness. 
Finally  he  thought  of  his  little  Elin,  his  sweet  motherless 
daughter,  how  she  would  hear  no  more  hard  words  spoken 
of  her  father,  but  would  grow  up  to  think  of  him  merely 
as  one  who  had  died  early.  Oh,  blessed  and  merciful  death 
which  can  make  those  who  hate  us  hate  us  less  and  those 
who  love  us  love  us  more ! 

It  was  bitter  to  comfort  himself  with  the  thought  that 
he  was  dead — dead  in  disgrace  and  in  a  foreign  country, 
with  no  mother's  tears  falling  on  his  face  and  no  child 
weeping  by  his  side,  that  tragic  consolation  of  the  dying. 
But  just  at  that  moment  the  music  ceased,  the  bell  tinkled 
at  the  altar,  and  raising  his  eyes  as  the  priest  elevated  the 
host  the  awe  deepened  about  him,  and  he  told  himself  that 
it  was  not  he  who  was  dead  at  all  but  only  his  sin  and  mis- 
ery, and  that  he  might  rise,  if  he  would,  out  of  the  shadow 
of  death  into  another  and  better  life. 

Then,  almost  before  he  knew  it,  the  thought  had  become 
a  prayer,  and  he  found  himself  praying  that  he  might  be 
permitted  to  begin  again,  to  put  the  past  behind  him,  and  to 
think  of  the  lost  days  of  his  life  hitherto  as  seed  that  was 
not  dead  though  he  had  trampled  it  into  the  clay.  Out  of 
the  heart  came  the  only  songs  that  went  to  the  heart,  and 
out  of  his  shame  and  suffering  in  that  future  he  had  fore- 
shadowed for  himself  the  voice  might  come  that  would  speak 
to  other  souls  as  stained  with  sin  as  his. 

Yet  who  was  he  to  speak  to  any  one?  Only  a  prodigal 
in  a  far  country  who  had  wasted  his  substance  in  riotous  liv- 
ing, and  having  come  to  himself  at  last,  now  that  no  man 
would  give  to  him,  was  turning  his  eyes  homeward  and  cry- 
ing, "  Father,  I  have  sinned  against  heaven,  and  before  thee, 
and  am  no  more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son !  " 

The  service  came  to  an  end  and  the  i)eople  rose  to  go.  As 
Oscar  rose,  too,  he  told  himself  that  in  actual  fact  he  would 
go  back  home  some  day.  A  little  longer,  only  a  little  longer, 
and  he  would  return  to  Iceland.  His  father  would  be  gone, 
yes,  his  poor  father  would  be  gone,  but  his  mother  would  be 
there,  and  he  would  make  amends  to  her  for  everything  she 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  293 

had  suffered  for  his  sake  and  wipe  all  tears  from  her  eyes. 
His  child  would  be  there  also,  and  he  would  claim  her  as  he 
had  always  intended  to  do,  and  though  she  might  not  even 
know  his  face,  she  would  hear  the  voice  of  nature  calling 
her  and  she  would  come  to  him  and  he  would  be  a  father  t» 
her,  guiding  and  protecting  her,  and  she  would  be  a  daughter 
to  him,  cheering  and  comforting  him,  and  her  love  would 
be  his  solace  for  all  the  pains  of  life.  A  little  longer,  only 
a  little  longer! 

When  he  came  out  of  the  great  church  he  felt  himself 
lifted  into  a  purer  air,  where  he  was  no  longer  a  fugitive 
from  the  vengeance  of  his  fellow-men,  but  a  pardoned  soul 
born  again  in  a  blessed  resurrection ;  and  when  he  had  settled 
in  the  train  for  Calais  he  set  himself  to  consider  what  other 
name  he  should  be  known  by  in  that  new  existence  which 
he  had  jjust  b^un. 

It  had  to  be  a  name  that  would  sufficiently  conceal  his 
own,  yet  one  that  would  be  characteristic  of  his  country, 
and,  after  much  beating  of  the  wings  of  memory,  he  decided 
on  Christian  Christiansson  as  a  name  which  not  only  an- 
swered to  the  conditions,  but  possessed  an  added  nobleness 
of  meaning  and  associations  that  would  forever  forbid  the 
lowering  of  the  flag  of  his  purpose. 

But  after  he  had  concluded  that  Christian  Christiansson 
was  to  be  his  name  in  the  future,  it  cost  him  a  pang  to  think 
that  Oscar  Stephenson  was  to  be  his  name  no  longer.  Ste- 
phen had  been  his  father's  name  and  his  poor  father  had 
expected  him  to  carry  it  on  from  strength  to  strength  and 
from  glory  to  glory.  Oscar  had  been  the  name  his  mother 
had  known  him  by,  and  it  came  back  to  him  now  in  the 
tones  of  her  voice  with  the  happiest  memories  of  his  boy- 
hood. He  could  hear  it  in  Thora's  voice  also  in  the  tremu- 
lous happiness  of  her  bridal  chamber,  in  the  tender  joy  of 
her  motherhood,  and  in  the  pleading  accents  of  her  despair. 
It  was  like  burying  something  of  himself  to  bury  his  name, 
but  Oscar  Stephenson  was  dead,  and  that  name  could  be  his 
no  more. 

It  was  early  morning  when  he  reached  London,  and  re- 
turning to  it  after  six  months'  absence  he  felt  like  one  who 
had  been  dead  and  was  alive  again.     As  the  empty  streets 


294  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

echoed  to  his  footsteps  his  spirits  rose  and  he  looked  to  the 
future  without  fear.  Though  he  was  coming  back  friend- 
less and  nearly  penniless,  he  saw  himself  as  he  would  be 
some  day — Christian  Christiansson,  the  composer,  rich,  re- 
spected, honored  perhaps,  and  perhaps  beloved.  It  might 
be  months,  it  might  be  years,  but  God  willing,  it  should 
come!     A  little  longer,  only  a  little  longer! 

He  had  at  first  intended  to  look  for  a  lodging  where  he 
would  be  quite  unknown,  but  in  his  present  elevation  of  feel- 
ing it  seemed  unnecessary  to  do  so,  and  he  determined  to 
return  to  his  old  home  in  Short  Street.  When  he  came  to 
Westminster  Bridge,  he  stopped  for  a  moment  to  look  down 
at  the  houseless  wretches  who  were  still  asleep  on  the  benches 
of  the  embankment,  and  to  remember  the  night  when  he 
had  been  one  of  them,  and  to  think  of  the  other  night  that 
was  soon  to  come  when  the  first-fruits  of  his  new  life  would 
be  in  his  hands. 

He  could  see  it  all  as  in  a  glass  that  revealed  the  future. 
The  curtain  would  be  down  on  the  new  opera  and  there 
would  be  a  great  demonstration  in  the  crowded  opera-house. 
Again  and  again  the  singers  would  be  recalled  and  then 
there  would  be  loud  cries  for  the  composer.  The  cries  would 
rise  to  a  deafening  clamor,  and  the  whole  audience  from 
the  royal  box  to  the  top-most  gallery  would  be  calling  for  tho 
unknown  man  who  had  breathed  his  suffering  soul  into  an 
old  Saga  and  made  the  dry  bones  live.  But  the  Unknown 
would  not  appear ;  he  would  not  be  there.  Where  would  he 
be?  He  would  be  down  here — here  under  the  night  sky, 
weeping  for  joy  and  gratitude,  emptying  his  pockets  among 
these  homeless  outcasts  in  memory  of  the  night  when  he, 
too,  was  homeless  and  an  outcast,  and  vowing  never  again 
to  forget  the  friendless  and  the  fallen  or  to  be  hard  on  the 
sinner  and  the  prodigal.  He  could  see  it  happening  as 
plainly  as  if  it  had  already  come  to  pass.  It  should  come 
to  pass!    A  little  longer,  only  a  little  longer! 

When  he  reached  Short  Street  the  heai-se  of  the  Xecropolis 
had  just  turned  the  corner  and  was  rattling  up  the  arch- 
way. Nearly  all  the  window-blinds  of  Number  One  were  still 
down,  but  as  he  hesitated  at  the  foot  of  the  front  steps  the 
door  opened  and  a  young  woman  in  curl  papers  came  out 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  295 

with  a  mop  and  pail.     She  stared  at  him  as  if  he  had  been 
a  stranger,  but  he  knew  her  instantly. 

"  Don't  you  remember  me,  Jenny  ?  "  he  said» 
At  the  sound  of  his  voice  Jenny's  face  assumed  a  look  of 
bewilderment;  this  was  followed  by  a  smile  of  recognition. 

"  Well,  I  never !    Mr.  Steevison !    Is  it  you,  sir  ?    Ye'r  so 
changed  I  wouldn't   'a   knowed  ye,   an'  when  ye  spoke  ye 
might  'a  knocked  me  down  with  a  feather." 
"  Can  I  have  lodgings  here  again,  Jenny  ? " 
"  Certingly  ye  can,  sir.    An'  ye've  come  in  the  nick  o'  time, 
too.     We  buried  the  barman  a  week  come  Wednesday  and 
'is  room  'as  been  just  cleaned  out.    Come  in,  Mr.  Steevison !  " 
"  Hush,  Jenny !     That  is  not  my  name  now." 
"  Isn't  it  really  ? "  said  Jenny,  with  a  puzzled  look,  and 
then,    as   by   sudden    enlightenment,    "  Well,    I'm   married 
myself  and  I've  changed  my  name,  too.     I'm  Mrs.   Cobb 
now,  an'  I've  took  over  the  'ouse  since  the  missus  'as  been 
down  with  the  stroke,  an'  my  'usband's  asleep  in  the  cellar." 
They  had  stepped  into  the  lobby  by  this  time  and  putting 
down  the  pail  Jenny  cried  over  the  banisters  of  the  base- 
ment stairs: 

"  Jim !  Jim  Cobb,  you  bone-lazy  thing,  come  up  an'  see 
an  old  friend." 

"  Don't  disturb  him  now !  Another  time !  I'm  tired." 
"  Ye  look  it,  sir.  Ye  really  do.  I'm  afraid  she's  been 
'a  treatin'  ye  cruel.  I  knowed  she  would.  It's  always  the 
way  with  them  women.  Ye'd  better  'a  stayed  with  me,  sir — 
I'd  'a  been  real  good  to  ye  in  them  days  and  never  'a  wanted 
nothink. —  But  go  inside,  sir,  and  I'll  get  ye  some  brekfist. 
The  kittle  is  just  on  the  boil  an'  ye'll  have  a  cup  o'  tea  an' 
a  rasher  afore  ye  can  say  '  Jack  Robison.'  " 

Jenny  went  scurrying  down  the  stairs  like  an  old  slipper, 
and  Oscar  stepped  into  the  barman's  parlor  and  sat  on  the 
shiny  leather-covered  sofa.  He  remembered  that  he  had  sat 
there  before,  he  remembered  who  had  sat  with  him,  he  re- 
membered all  that  had  happened  since,  and  then  for  one 
brief  moment  his  visions  of  the  future  failed  him ;  his  hopes 
and  intentions  sank  away;  everything  was  blotted  out  ex- 
cept the  sweet  and  bitter  memory  of  the  woman  he  had 
loved  and  lost,  and  he  broke  down  utterly. 


296  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 


xn 

It  takes  a  long  time  for  the  truth  to  travel  from  a  distance, 
but  a  lie  flics  on  the  Avings  of  the  wind.  The  report  of  Os- 
car's death  in  a  gambling-house  on  the  Riviera  reached  Ice- 
land by  the  next  steamer. 

Three  days  before  the  steamer's  arrival  Magnus  and  his 
mother  were  sitting  in  front  of  their  farm  at  Thingvellir. 
Anna  was  spinning  and  Magnus  was  making  rope  by  a 
twister  turned  by  a  small  boy  a  dozen  yards  away,  for  it 
was  just  after  the  wool-plucking  and  a  little  before  the  hay- 
harvest. 

The  sun  was  setting  behind  the  crags  of  the  Almanagja, 
the  blueberry  ling  was  reddening  over  the  green  waters  of 
the  chasm,  and  there  was  no  sound  in  the  evening  air  save 
the  plash  of  the  Axe  waterfall,  the  lowing  of  kine  and  the 
cry  of  curlew.  Then  over  the  hum  of  the  wheel  and  the  wis- 
wis  of  the  twister  came  the  dull  thud  of  horses'  feet  on  that 
hollow  ground  and  Anna  stopped  to  listen. 

"  That  must  be  the  post  coming,"  she  said,  and  Magnus 
answered,  "  Perhaps,"  without  turning  to  look  at  the  road, 
which  was  still  emptj'  as  far  as  to  the  top  of  the  cleft,  where 
it  opened  on  to  the  plain. 

"  I  wonder  if  there  will  be  a  letter  from  Oscar  ? " 

"  Why  should  you  wonder,  mother  ?  Has  he  answered 
your  letter  of  three  years  ago?  Has  he  had  the  de- 
cency and  humanity  to  reply  to  the  news  of  his  father's 
death?    No!" 

"  Still,  I  can  not  give  up  hoping.  lie  must  know  by  this 
time  how  you  are  placed  with  the  fann,  and  perhaps  he  is 
only  waiting  until  he  can  send  you  some  assistance." 

Magnus  made  no  reply,  but  the  wis-wis  of  the  rope  was 
louder. 

*'  It's  true  he  doesn't  know  everything.  He  doesn't  know 
that  his  father  left  nothing  behind  him  but  the  debt  to  the 
bank,  and  that  the  bank  has  been  so  hard " 

"  Mother,  if  you  go  on  talking  like  that  I  shall  never  get 


THE    PEODIGAL    SON  297 

this  rope  finished.  I  don't  want  anybody  to  help  me  to  pay 
my  way,  and  the  bank  shall  have  its  money  every  Christmas 
if  hard  work  can  make  it." 

"  You'll  work  yourself  to  death — that's  what  you'll  do, 
Magnus.  You  sent  Asher  away  in  the  winter,  although  he 
was  so  good  at  feeding  the  beasts  when  the  snow  was  on  the 
ground,  and  now  that  the  hay  has  to  be  cut  and  the  lambs 
killed,  you're  discharging  Jon  Vidalin.'' 

"  We'll  have  to  thin  down  somewhere,  and  the  sooner  we 
begin  the  better — it's  too  late  to  spare  when  you  see  the  bot- 
tom of  the  meal-barrel,  you  know." 

"  That's  what  you  call  thinning  down — sending  everybody 
away  who  can  help  you  with  the  farm  and  keeping  a  houseftd 
of  women  who  are  of  no  use  for  anything." 

"  Why,  which  of  them  is  of  no  use,  mother  ?  " 

"  Gudrun  for  one.  She  only  milks  the  cows  in  the  morn- 
ing and  the  ewes  in  the  evening,  and  I  could  do  both  myself 
and  save  her  keep  and  wages." 

"  Nonsense,  mother !  You're  not  young  enough  now  to 
get  up  at  four  o'clock  winter  and  summer  and  I  won't  hear 
of  it  for  a  moment." 

"  Then  there's  Maria — she's  old  enough  for  anything,  and 
what's  the  use  of  her  ? " 

"  Maria's  been  in  the  family  since  before  I  was  born,  and 
we  can't  turn  her  away  now  because  she's  old  and  rheu- 
matic." 

"  And  here's  Erie,"  said  Anna,  dropping  her  voice  and 
glancing  at  the  boy  who  was  turning  the  twister. 

"  Eric  ?  Poor  little  chap,  he's  lost  his  father,  and  he  only 
gets  a  lamb  for  his  wages  anyway." 

"  It's  to  be  a  sheep  this  year,  remember,  and  then  there's 
his  food —  But  if  it's  an  orphanage  you  want  to  keep,  or 
a  home  for  invalids " 

"Helloa!  Here's  the  p-ost!  And  who's  this  he  has  got 
with  him  ?  The  Eector !  The  Hector  and  two  strangers !  " 
cried  Magm.«s,  as  a  canvas-covered  wagon,  drawn  by  four 
ponies,  rumbled  over  the  bridge  above  the  waterfall  and  gal- 
loped up  to  the  Inn-farm. 

"  Welcome,  Rector,"  said  Anna. 

"  Thanks,  Anna.    These  are  friends  from  America,  trav- 
20 


298  THE    mODIGAL    SON 

eling  to  see  the  country.  "We  should  like  to  sleep  here  to- 
night and  go  on  to  Geyser  in  the  morning." 

"  With  pleasure !  Maria !  Gudrun !  Jon  Vidalin !  "  cried 
Anna,  and  while  the  strangers  were  being  taken  to  the 
guest-room  and  the  horses  to  the  stable,  the  Rector  went 
indoors  with  Anna  and  ilagnus  and  they  sat  and  talked 
around  the  hall  table. 

"  You  look  hale  in  spite  of  everything,  Anna." 

"  And  you,  too,  Eector !  " 

"  Ah,  yes,  old  wood  burns  slow !  But  I  sometimes  wonder 
if  it's  well  to  live  long.  Better  go  to  bed  early  than  sit  up  too 
late,  I  say." 

"  Any  new  trouble  in  town  lately  ?  " 

"  The  Factor  is  down  at  last,  poor  fellow." 

"  You  mean  that  he's " 

"  Bankrupt,  and  about  to  be  sold  up — business,  office, 
everj^thing." 

"  Poor  Margret  ISTeilsen  !  " 

"  What  about  the  child  ?  "  asked  Magnus. 

"  I  think  he  would  part  with  it  now.  To  tell  you  the  truth, 
he  is  feeling  bitterly  about  Oscar  just  at  present.  '  A  dove 
doesn't  come  out  of  a  raven's  egg,''  he  said  yesterday." 

"  He  said  that  ?  " 

"  So  the  new  Minister  says — but  then  it  was  the  Minister 
who  made  him  bankrupt." 

"  But  I  thought  they  were  such  friends ;  and  when  poor 
Stephen  was  petitioning  the  King " 

"  Then  you  haven't  heard  what  happened  about  Thora." 

"Thora?"  said  Magnus. 

"  Poor  Thora's  grave,  I  mean.  It  makes  the  blood  run  be- 
tween my  skin  and  my  flesh  to  think  about  it." 

"  Tell  us,"  said  Anna. 

And  then  the  Rector  told  them  how  the  Minister,  acting 
under  instructions  received  from  abroad,  had  ordered  Thora's 
grave  to  be  opened  and  certain  musical  compositions  which 
had  been  buried  in  it  to  be  taken  out;  how  this  had  been 
done  and  the  papers  despatched  to  England ;  how  the  Factor 
had  heard  of  it,  and,  being  furious,  had  threatened  an  action 
against  the  Minister;  and  finally  how  the  Minister,  to  cut 
the  ground  under  the  Factor's  feet,  had  caused  the  bank 
to  make  him  a  bankrupt. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  299 

During  the  progress  of  the  Eector's  story  Magnus  sat 
without  saying  a  word,  but  every  moment  his  cheeks  grew 
whiter  and  his  eyes  glared  and  his  lips  quivered.  Meantime 
Anna  covered  her  face  and  said : 

"  It  must  have  been  Neils  who  did  that.  I  never  liked  the 
boy — he  was  always  too  much  like  his  father — and  now  that 
he  is " 

"  It  wasn't  Neils,  Anna.    It  was  Oscar." 

"  Oscar  ? "  said  Magnus,  and  his  hands  clutched  the  cor- 
ners of  the  table. 

"Oh,  dear!  Oh,  dear!  I  couldn't  have  believed  it  of  Os- 
car. But  who  knows  how  he  may  have  been  tempted?  Per- 
haps he  was  poor,  yes,  perhaps  after  all  he  was  in  want  and 
they  offered  him  money.  There  are  such  ups  and  downs  in 
these  foreign  countries — perhaps  he  was  standing  in  the 
streets  of  London " 

"  He  wasn't  in  London  at  all,  Anna.  He  was  at  Monte 
Carlo,  or  Nice,  or  somewhere." 

"  Then  you  mean  he  only  wanted  the  money  to — the  same 
as  before,  when  he — I  won't  believe  it !  " 

"  Be  quiet,  mother,"  said  Magnus,  with  the  hoarse  croak 
of  a  raven,  and  then  turning  to  the  Rector,  "  Who  did  it — 
the  work  itself,  I  mean  ? " 

"  Hans,  the  sailor — they  could  get  nobody  else,  it  seems." 

"  Hans,  the  sailor,"  repeated  Magnus,  in  the  same  hoarse 
croak,  and  while  the  table  creaked  under  the  clutch  of  his 
great  hands,  his  face  grew  hard  and  ugly. 

During  the  remainder  of  that  day  Magnus  went  about 
without  speaking  to  any  one,  and  next  morning,  after  the 
strangers  had  started  on  their  journey,  he  saddled  Silvertop 
and  rode  off  toward  Reykjavik.  Anna  saw  him  go,  and 
"calling  to  Jon  Vidalin,  she  said : 

"  Take  the  fastest  horse  and  ride  to  town  by  the  low  road 
and  find  Hans,  the  sailor.  Tell  him  to  fly  before  Magnus 
oomes  and  never  to  come  back  again." 


300  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 


XIII 


When  Magnus  returned  to  the  fann  three  days  afterward 
he  was  like  another  man.  His  face  was  no  longer  hard  and 
ugly,  it  was  as  soft  as  a  tender  woman's,  and  he  was  smiling 
do^vn  at  something  that  looked  like  a  huge  bundle  which  he 
carried  on  the  saddle  in  front  of  him.  Anna  saw  him  cross- 
ing the  bridge,  and  she  ran  out  to  meet  him. 

"  Goodness  me !  "  she  cried.    "  Is  it  the  child  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  the  child,  mother,"  said  Magnus,  and  out  of  a 
mountain  of  rugs  and  shawls  came  little  Elin,  now  in  her 
fifth  year,  and  she  was  dropped  into  Anna's  arms. 

"  The  darling !  What  a  great  girl  she  has  grown !  So  she 
has  come  to  see  her  gran'ma?" 

"  Yes,  gran'ma,"  said  the  child. 

"  And  here  are  her  clothes — all  of  them,"  said  Magnus, 
swinging  a  satchel  off  his  shoulders. 

"Then  she  has  come  for  good !  And  she  is  going  to  live 
with  her  gran'ma  and  Uncle  Magnus !  " 

"  And  Silvertop  and  the  sheeps  and  the  doggies,"  said  the 
little  one. 

"  So  she  shall,  bless  her!  Jon  Vidalin,  see  to  the  master's 
pony.  Eric,  where  are  you?  Ah!  that's  a  good  boy — carry 
the  satchel  into  the  house.  Maria,  did  you  ever  see  any- 
thing so  bonny?  But,  Magnus,  how  ever  did  the  Factor 
come  to  part  with  her?" 

"  He  wouldn't  at  first,  for  all  his  worries  and  the  hard 
things  he  had  been  saying.  And  when  he  came  to  it  at  last 
he  wanted  me  to  promise  that  if  Margret  Neilsen  died  before 
himself  he  should  have  the  child  back  again." 

"  You  didn't  agree  to  that,  Magnus  ?  " 

"  I  said  the  girl  should  choose  for  herself  if  she  was  old 
enough,  and  at  last  he  consented." 

"  But  what  about  Margret  Neilsen  ?  " 

"  That  was  harder  still.  *  I  promised  her  mother  I  should 
keep  her  as  long  as  I  lived,'  she  said." 

"Ah,  poor  thing  1    She  didn't  know  what  was  to  happen." 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  301 

"'I  wouldn't  part  with  her  to  anybody  in  the  world  but 
Anna,'  she  said." 

"  I  always  said  Margret  Neilsen  was  as  good  as  gold." 

"  *  And  I  wouldn't  part  with  her  now,'  she  said, '  only  Anna 
is  in  such  trouble.'  " 

"Trouble?"  ^ 

"  Give  the  child  to  Maria  and  come  into  the  house,  mother."  i 

The  sunshine  died  off  Anna's  face;  she  saw  what  was 
coming. 

"  Here,  take  her  in  and  give  her  some  barley  cake  and 
syrup,  and  for  goodness'  sake,  woman,  don't  sniffle  as  if  you 
had  a  cold.  What  is  it,  Magnus?  Am  I  the  only  one  who 
doesn't  know?    Tell  me  plainly — is  he  in  disgrace  again?  " 

"  Plave  courage,  mother,"  said  Magnus. 

She  looked  at  him  and  undei*stood  everything.  "  Wait," 
she  said,  and  she  went  down  on  her  knees  in  the  hall  and 
prayed  for  some  moments.  After  that  she  got  up,  pale  but 
calm,  and  said: 

"  Now  tell  me  everything — I  am  ready." 

Magnus  told  her  what  he  had  heard  and  all  that  had 
happened :  how  he  had  gone  to  town  with  murder  in  his 
heart,  intending  to  punish  Hans,  the  sailor;  how  some  one 
had  warned  him  and  Hans  had  taken  refuge  in  a  schooner 
that  was  to  sail  for  Norway;  how  he  had  hired  a  boat  to 
follow  the  man  when  the  mail  steamer  dropped  anchor  in  the 
bay  and  somebody  shouted  from  the  deck  that  Oscar  was 
dead,  and  it  was  the  same  as  if  a  hand  from  heaven  had 
stopped  him. 

"Dead,  did  he  say?" 

"  Dead  in  France,  he  said,  and  he  threw  down  a  Danish 
newspaper.  Here  it  is,  mother,  but  God  knows  if  I  should 
read  you  the  report  in  it." 

"  Read  it,"  said  Anna. 

He  read  it — it  was  the  same  which  had  appeared  in  Paris 
— and  she  listened  without  drawing  breath. 

"  Then  he  died  in  a  gaming-house — by  his  own  hand,  too — 
and  to  save  himself   from  further  disgrace !  " 

Magnus  did  not  attempt  to  speak,  and  presently  Anna's 
tears  began  to  flow.  After  a  few  moments  she  wept  bitterly 
and  prayed  aloud,  now  for  Oscar,  that  God  would  forgive 


302  THE    TRODIGAL    SON 

tim;  now  for  Elin,  that  God  would  protect  the  little  orphan; 
finally  for  herself,  that  God  would  have  pity  upon  her  and 
let  her  die. 

Magnus  went  over  to  the  dresser  for  a  bowl,  dipped  it  in 
the  water-crock,  and  gave  her  a  drink,  and  after  that  she 
seemed  better. 

"  My  poor  Oscar !  "  she  said.  "  He  wasted  his  life,  poor 
boy !  Such  a  precious  life,  too !  Such  talents !  There  wasn't 
anything  he  couldn't  master.  Everybody  said  what  great 
things  he  would  do  some  day.  And  to  think  it  should  come 
to  this !  I  never  expected  to  thank  God  that  his  father  wa3 
dead,  but  I  do  now.  Oh,  God,  I  thank  Thee —  But  what 
am  I  saying? " 

After  a  few  minutes  more  she  began  to  blame  herself  for 
everything  that  had  happened. 

"  I  didn't  bring  him  up  properly.  I  could  never  be  strict 
with  children.  And  he  was  always  so  sweet,  and  even  when 
he  was  naughty  he  was  so  loving.  Everybody  loved  that 
child.  Yes,  it  was  my  fault,  and  God  ought  to  punish  me. 
Almighty  Father,  be  merciful  to  my  poor  boy,  and  if  I  was 
to  blame " 

"  Mother !  Mother !  "  said  Magnus,  and  she  stopped  in  her 
self-reproaches,  waiting  for  a  loving  word  to  comfort  and 
support  her,  but  Magnus  said  no  more. 

A  few  minutes  later  all  she  had  suffered  at  Oscar's  hands 
was  wiped  out  of  her  mind  and  the  wajTvard  sinner  had  be- 
come a  saint. 

"  He  never  changed  to  me,  never,  and  even  when  he  grew 
to  be  a  man  he  always  kissed  me  going  to  bed,  just  as  he 
used  to  do  when  he  was  a  boy.  He  was  so  good  to  his 
mother.  Both  my  sons  have  been  good  to  me.  No  mother 
ever  had  such  good  sons " 

"  Mother !  "  said  Magnus,  and  again  she  waited,  but  Mag- 
nus did  not  speak. 

At  length  she  checked  her  tears  and  began  to  comfort 
herself  with  the  thought  that  if  Oscar  had  taken  his  own 
life  it  must  have  been  in  madness,  therefore  God  would  not 
hold  him  accountable. 

"  And  if  he  died  in  disgrace,  perhaps  it  was  only  because 
he  wanted  to  come  back  rich,  so  that  he  could  pay  the  mort- 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  303 

gage  and  make  us  all  happy.  I  used  to  think  of  that  and 
pray  for  it  so  often.  But  now  if  he  could  only  come  back 
poor — I  shouldn't  care  how  poor — as  poor  as  the  prodigal  in 
the  parable " 

"  Mother !  "  cried  Magnus.  "  I  can't  hear  you  talk  like  this 
— I  can't  and  I  won't.  Oscar  is  dead,  but  he  treated  you 
shamefully." 

"  Don't  say  that,  Magnus." 

"  But  I  do  say  it.  I  say  you  were  the  best  mother  to 
him  a  son  ever  had,  and  the  only  return  he  made  to  you  for 
your  care  and  loving-kindness  was  to  neglect  you  and  for- 
get you." 

"  Don't  say  it,  my  son." 

"  I  will  say  it,  mother.  And  I'll  say,  too,  that  Oscar  lived 
in  disgrace  and  died  in  disgrace,  and  now  that  he  is  gone  I 
am  not  going  to  pretend  that  I  wish  he  could  come  back 
again." 

"Magnus !    Magnus !  " 

"  I  don't  wish  it.  If  he  came  back  poor,  what  right  would 
he  have  to  bring  his  poverty  here  ?  And  if  he  came  back  rich, 
what  reason  to  expect  that  his  money  would  make  amends  to 
us  for  the  evil  days  we  have  had  through  him?  I  don't  be- 
lieve in  the  return  of  the  prodigal,  mother,  and  I  don't  believe 
in  the  parable,  either.  That  may  be  the  way  in  the  other 
world,  but  it  isn't  the  way  in  this  one,  and  it  shouldn't  be — 
I  say  it  shouldn't  be." 

"Oh,  dear!    Oh,  dear!" 

"  As  for  Oscar,  I  tried  to  forgive  him — you  know  I  did — 
hut  there  are  some  crimes  that  seem  to  be  past  forgiveness, 
and  when  I  think  of  this  last  one  against  Thora  I'm  not 
sorry  he  never  came  back — I  shouldn't  have  been  able  to  keep 
my  hands  off  him.  I  was  thinking  of  him  when  I  was  fol- 
lowing Hans,  and  if  he  had  returned  with  the  ship  that 
brought  the  news  of  his  death  it  would  have  been  God  help 
both  him  and  me." 

"  But,  my  son,  your  brother  is  only  just  dead,  and  it  is 
your  duty  to  forgive  him  whatever  he  did." 

"  He  died  to  me  long  ago,  mother — before  he  went  away 
from  Iceland — and  now  that  he  is  dead  indeed,  I  thank  God 
he  can  never  come  back  again." 


304  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  Well,  the  Lord  knows  best  what  He  is  doing,"  said  Ann?   ^ 
and  then  her  tears  came  again,  whereupon  Magnus,  seeini 
•what  he  had  done,  walked  over  to  her  and  kissed  her.     He 
Lad  never  done  that  in  the  whole  course  of  his  life  before,  so 
her  tears  flowed  faster  than  ever.    And  then  he  went  out  of 
the  house,  muttering  to  himself: 

"  Ah,  well !    My  God !    My  God !  " 

That  night  when  the  bell  in  the  hall  rang  for  prayers,  and 
little  Elin  sat  in  her  grandmother's  lap  and  the  farm- 
servants  trooped  in  with  the  awesome  looks  of  persons  who 
knew  what  shadow  hung  over  the  little  house  among  the 
lonely  hills,  Magnus,  in  his  quality  of  family  priest,  took 
Tip  the  Bible  and  hymn-book  at  the  place  where  Anna  opened 
for  him.  The  chapter  was  from  second  Samuel,  and  it 
ended  with  the  verse: 

"  And  the  king  was  much  moved,  and  went  up  to  the  chamber  over 
the  gate,  and  wept :  and  as  he  went,  thus  he  said,  O  my  son  Absalom, 
my  son,  my  son  Absalom !  Would  God  I  had  died  for  thee,  O 
Absalom,  my  son,  my  son." 

The  hymn  was — 

"  Meek  and  low,  meek  and  low, 
I  shall  soon  my  Jesus  know." 

When  the  singing  ended,  the  fann-servants  went  out  one 
by  one,  each  saying  to  Magnus : 

"  God  give  you  a  good  night !  " 

And  Magnus  answered,  as  well  as  he  could  for  the  emotion, 
that  mastered  him: 

"  And  you !     A\id  you !  " 


XIV 

In  the  house  of  sorrow  God  closes  the  hearts  of  little  chil- 
dren so  that  they  may  not  break.  Little  Elin  had  been  bright 
and  happy  the  whole  evening  through.  She  was  a  merry 
little  sprite  whose  laughter — like  the  rippling  of  a  sunny 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  305 

stream — set  everybody  else  laughing.  Old  Maria  was  at  a 
loss  to  say  which  of  her  parents  she  resembled  most.  When 
the  child  laughed,  Maria  said :  "  There's  a  deal  of  the  father 
in  the  little  one,"  and  when  she  listened  and  looked  up  side- 
ways Maria  thought  there  was  a  deal  of  the  mother,  too. 

Anna  put  her  to  bed,  and  while  she  was  being  undressed 
her  little  tongue  went  like  a  shuttle.  Existence  had  gone 
rapidly  since  she  arrived,  and  she  was  full  of  stories :  how  she 
had  gone  to  the  chasm  with  Maria  to  pluck  blueberries,  and 
two  big,  black  ravens,  sitting  on  a  crag,  had  looked  down  at 
her  and  croaked ;  how  she  had  gone  to  the  cow-house  with 
Eric  to  see  the  cows  milked,  and  Gudrun  (to  her  infinite 
glee)  had  squirted  some  of  the  milk  at  her;  and,  above  all, 
how  all  alone  she  had  found  a  pet  lamb  and  it  was  brown, 
because  it  had  lost  its  mother,  and  lived  in  the  elt-house,  be- 
cause its  father  had  run  away  from  it,  and  how  it  put  its 
cold  nose  against  her  face  and  said,  "  Bah !  "  and  its  name 
was  "  Maggie." 

"  Maggie  shall  come  and  waken  you  in  the  morning, 
darling,"  said  Anna. 

"  Shall  she  come  in  here,  gran'raa  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear,"  said  Anna,  and  then  the  sunny  stream  of 
the  child's  laughter  rippled  through  the  room. 

"  But  now  it's  late,  and  good  little  girls  must  be  as  quiet 
as  mice." 

"  Yes,  gran'ma" — in  a  breathless  whisper. 

"  This  is  to  be  your  own  little  bedroom  always,  dearest, 
and  gran'ma  has  made  it  nice,  so  that  it  may  do  for  you 
when  you  grow  up." 

"  Yes,  gran'ma  " — another  breathless  whisper. 

"  That  is  the  wardi'obe  for  your  clothes,  and  this  is  your 
little  chest  of  drawers,  and  that — up  there  on  the  wall — that 
is  your  mamma's  guitar  and  you  will  learn  to  play  it  some 
day." 

"  Yes,  gran'ma  " — the  whisper  was  growing  a  little  weary. 

"  The  next  room  is  the  guest-room,  and  Uncle  Magnus  al- 
ways sleeps  there,  except  when  there  are  strangers,  so  if 
you  knock  in  the  night  he  is  sure  to  hear  you." 

**  Yes,  gran'ma  " — the  whisper  was  getting  slow  and  weary. 

"  Gran'ma  wants  you  to  be  such  a  good  girl  to  Uncle 


306  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

Magnus.  He  loved  your  dear,  sweet  mother  so  much.  Oh, 
so  much,  but  he  lost  her " 

"Same  as  Maggie's  mother?" — there  was  a  sudden  burst 
of  wakefulness. 

"  Maggie's  mother  was  only  a  sheep,  darling." 

"Oh!" 

"  But  now  God  has  given  you  to  Uncle  Magnus  to  make  up 
to  him  for  everything,  so  you  must  be  as  good  as  good  to 
him." 

"  Yes,  gran'ma  " — the  whisper  was  becoming  faint. 

"  When  you  grow  up  to  be  a  big,  big  girl,  and  grandma 
isn't  here,  you  must  love  him  and  comfort  him  just  the  same 
as  if  he  had  been  your  own  father." 

"  Ye — es,  gran'ma." 

"  And  if  anybody  ever  comes  and  wants  to  take  you  away 
from  him,  you  mustn't  go — you  must  always  stay  with  Uncle 
Magnus." 

"  Ye — es,  gran' " 

"  That's  a  good  girl !  And  now  climb  up  into  bed,  and 
grandma  will  kiss  you  and  tuck  you  in  for  the  night." 

"  And  will  Maggie  come  in  the  morning  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dearest.'' 

"  Good  night,  gran'ma.'* 

"  Good  night,  my  own  darling.'* 

"  Goo — nigh — gran' — ma." 


PART  VI 


*'  One  moment  in  annihilation's  waste 

One  moment  of  the  Well  of  Life  to  taste, — 

The  stars  are  setting  and  the  caravan 

Draws  to  the  Dawn  of  Nothing — Oh,  make  hostel^ 


The  Danish  mail-steamer  "Laura,"  outward  bound  on  her 
mid\ST[nter  trip  from  Copenhagen  to  Leith,  and  from  Leith 
to  Iceland,  carried  two  saloon  passengers  only. 

One  of  these,  a  comfortable,  elderly  person  of  ample  pro- 
portions, dressed  in  the  warmest  Icelandic  vadmal,  was  an 
Iceland  merchant  returning  from  Edinburgh  with  a  hundred 
tons  of  British  produce.  This  was  Jon  Oddsson,  formerly 
radical  champion  in  politics,  and  now  conservative  leader 
in  trade. 

The  other  passenger  was  a  tall,  spare  man  apparently  about 
fifty  years  of  age,  with  large  and  luminous  but  weaiy  eyes, 
long  pale  cheeks  deeply  scored  with  lines  of  thought,  and  a 
pointed  beard  that  was  beginning  to  be  tinged  with  grey. 
This  was  Christian  Christiansson,  now  ten  yeai's  older  than 
when  he  returned  from  the  Riviera  to  London,  and  so 
changed  in  eveiy  feature  by  the  strange  characters  which 
work  and  sorrow  inscribe  on  a  man's  face  with  the  stern  hand 
of  Time,  that  few  or  none  would  have  recognized  him. 

In  the  interval  Christian  Christiansson  had  carried  out  his 
plans  and  realized  his  expectations.  Buried  in  the  depths  of 
London  as  a  man  dying  on  shipboard  is  buried  in  the  vast 
grave  of  the  sea,  he  had  lived  long  as  one  who  was  dead,  but 
his  hour  had  struck  at  last.  For  five  years  he  had  been  one 
of  the  most  popular  of  living  composers.  His  operas,  founded 
on  the  Sagas  of  his  own  country,  had  made  Iceland  familiar 
to  people  eveiy where;  his  works  had  been  represented  in 

807 


308  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

every  capital ;  his  tunes  had  been  played  in  every  street,  and 
it  was  almost  as  if  he  had  breathed  over  Europe  and  set  the 
air  to  song. 

Meantime  he  had  been  faithful  to  the  pledge  he  had  made 
with  himself.  His  name  was  a  household  word,  but  it  was 
no  more  than  a  name,  and  his  identity  had  never  been  re- 
vealed. No  temptation  had  prevailed  with  him  to  disclose 
it,  and  the  few  who  knew  his  secret  had  found  it  to  their 
interest  to  maintain  the  mysteiy.  And  now  he  was  returning 
to  his  own  country  rich  and  famous — rich  as  the  man  who 
strikes  ore  from  the  rock  and  finds  it  pouring  dowTi  on  him 
in  an  avalanche  of  gold,  but  famous  only  as  the  "  hidden 
folk  "  are  famous,  the  good  fairies  who  leave  food  and  drink 
at  the  doors  of  poor  men  and  then  steal  away  before  they 
awake  in  the  dawn. 

How  changed  the  old  world  was  when  he  emerged  at  length 
into  the  light  of  open  day !  The  telegram  he  sent  from 
London,  asking  for  a  berth  to  be  reserved  for  him,  had  almost 
paralyzed  the  captain  with  excitement  and  delight.  It  was 
the  same  old  Captain  Zimsen,  who  in  former  days  had  given 
him  the  best  room  when  he  was  in  favor,  and  the  woi-st  when 
he  was  in  disgrace.  The  moment  he  set  foot  on  the  ship, 
lying  in  dock  at  Lcith,  the  time-sei'ving  old  salt  had  been 
there — hat  in  hand — to  lead  him  to  his  private  cabin. 

"  Do  me  the  honor  to  occupy  my  stateroom,  sir,  and  if 
there  is  anything  you  could  wish — any  little  dainty  for  the 
table " 

"  You  are  very  good,  very  obliging." 

"  Don't  mention  it,  sir.  It  is  a  pleasure,  a  privilege,  to  do 
anything  in  my  power  for  the  most  distinguished  Icelander 
of  modern  times.  Do  they  know  you  are  coming,  Mr. 
Christiansson  ? " 

"  Not  yet,  Captain." 

"What  a  pity!  What  a  reception  they  would  have  given 
you !    But  they  will,  they  will !  " 

If  the  world  was  changed,  the  man  was  changed  also. 
The  buoyancy  of  youth  was  gone,  and  over  the  old  capti- 
vating gaiety  of  manner  and  expression,  a  sad  gravity  had 
fallen,  as  if  a  lilac-tree,  still  bright  with  blossom,  had  been 
borne  down  by  snow.    But  after  two  days  at  sea  his  spirits 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  309 

rose,  and  he  felt  like  a  slave  who  had  been  emancipated,  like 
a  prisoner  set  free. 

It  was  fifteen  years  since  he  had  left  his  own  country,  but 
he  was  returning  to  it  at  last,  as  he  had  always  hoped  and 
intended  to  do.  He  had  left  it  in  disgi-acc,  he  was  going 
back  to  it  in  honor;  he  had  left  it  in  poverty,  he  was  going 
back  to  it  with  wealth.  He  was  going  back  as  the  prodigal, 
yet  not,  like  the  prodigal,  empty-handed  and  ashamed,  but 
able  to  make  amends,  and  to  wipe  the  tears  from  all  eyes. 

Would  it  be  wrong  to  pennit  himself  to  be  known  ?  If  the 
people  of  Iceland,  more  observant  than  this  old  captain, 
identified  in  Christian  Christiansson  the  Oscar  Stephenson 
who  was  thought  to  be  dead,  would  it  be  false  to  the  pledge 
he  had  made  with  himself  to  submit  to  their  recognition? 
Fifteen  years  he  had  lived  in  obscurity — ^was  it  not  enough 
for  penance  and  pardon  ?  Were  not  the  doors  of  his  dungeon 
even  yet  broken  open?  Could  he  not  believe  that  he  was 
delivered  from  the  body  of  the  death  he  had  lived  in?  He 
had  lived,  he  had  died — might  he  not  live  again  ? 


n 

During  the  ten  years  in  which  he  had  been  as  a  dead  man 
all  channels  of  communication  had  been  closed  to  him,  and 
except  for  infoi-mation  casually  gathered,  he  had  little  or  no 
knowledge  of  what  had  occurred  in  Iceland.  And  now,  find- 
ing himself  for  the  first  time  face  to  face  with  men  who  had 
been  in  constant  touch  with  his  people,  he  had  a  hundred 
questions  which  he  yearned  to  ask:  "Is  my  mother  alive? 
Is  she  well?  And  my  little  daughter — has  God  been  good 
to  me  and  let  her  live,  or  is  all  my  labor  wasted  ? " 

But  he  was  afraid  to  learn  the  truth  too  suddenly,  so  he 
waited  and  watched  and  listened  for  answers  to  the  questions 
he  dared  not  ask.  Meantime  he  tried  to  amuse  himself  with 
the  curiosity  of  the  captain  and  his  fellow-passengers,  who 
were  clearly  at  a  loss  to  know  who  he  was,  where  he  was  bom, 
and  what  family  of  the  Ohristianssons  he  came  from.  It  was 
a  perilous  pleasure,  a  dizzy  joy,  to  listen  to  the  names  of  his 
family  and  to  hear  himself  discussed;   and  sometimes,  in 


310  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

mortal  shame  of  the  subterfuges  to  which  his  disguise  con- 
demned him,  he  could  hardly  resist  an  impulse  to  blurt  out 
the  truth  of  his  identity,  and  sometimes  he  had  to  leap  up 
from  his  place  in  the  smoking-room  and  fly. 

"  You've  not  been  home  very  lately,  Mr.  Christiansson  ? " 
said  the  captain,  who  was  smoking  his  long  pipe  after  mid- 
day dinner  while  the  ship  swung  along  in  open  sea. 

"  ISTot  very  lately.  Captain,"  said  Christiansson. 

"  You'll  see  changes,  then,"  said  the  merchant. 

"  No  doubt,  no  doubt !  " 

"  The  new  Constitution  has  worked  wonders  for  Iceland, 
sir." 

"Worked  wonders,  has  it?" 

"  The  barter  trade  has  gone,  the  cash  business  is  estab- 
lished everywhere,  and  as  for  the  fishing,  it's  another 
industry,  sir." 

"  Another  industi-y,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Judge  for  yourself,  sir.  Instead  of  the  old  open  boats  we 
have  sixty  smacks,  manned  by  twenty  men  apiece,  and  going 
as  far  as  six  days  out  and  home  again." 

"  Then  the  people  were  right,  after  all,  who  used  to  say  the 
old  trade  was  doomed  and  the  water  was  to  be  the  wealth  of 
Iceland?" 

"  They  were  that,  sir,"  said  the  merchant,  inflating  his 
chest  and  pulling  down  his  waistcoat.  "  Everybody  has  bene- 
fited by  the  change,  and  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  you  find 
your  own  people  better  off  than  when  you  left  them — that  is 
to  say,  if  they  are  still  alive." 

"  If  they're  still  alive,"  said  Christian  Christiansson,  drop- 
ping both  voice  and  eyes. 

"  By  the  way,  were  you  at  home  in  Governor  Stephen's 
time,  Mr.  Christiansson  ? "  asked  the  captain. 

"  Well,  yes,  Captain,  yes,  I  was  at  home  then,"  said  Chris- 
tian Christiansson,  with  a  momentaiy  faltering  in  his 
voice. 

"  In  that  case  you  must  have  seen  the  beginning  of  the 
end.  The  old  Governor  tried  to  resist  the  change,  and  lived 
with  a  sword  over  his  head  all  his  latter  days,  poor  devil." 

"A  wise  old  man,  though,  wasn't  he?"  said  Christian 
Christiansson — he  could  scarcely  trust  himself  to  speak. 


THE    PKODIGAL    SOX  311 

"  Wise  ?  "  said  the  merchant,  with  a  curl  of  the  lip,  "  No 
man  is  wise  who  will  not  be  warned,  and  he  had  warning 
enough.    But  it  was  his  sons  who  settled  him  J' 

Christian  Christiansson  looked  up  with  a  start.  "  Ah,  yes, 
of  course,  his  sons,  he  had  two  sons,  I  remember.  What 
became  of  them  ?  " 

"  One  of  them  is  living  at  Thingvellir  still." 

"  Living  still,  is  he  ?  " 

"  If  you  call  it  living — up  to  his  ears  in  debt." 

"  In  debt,  you  say  ?  " 

"  Always  has  been,  always  will  be.  As  for  the  other  one — 
Olaf ,  Eric — what  was  his  name,  now  ?  " 

"Was  it  Oscar?"  said  Christian  Christiansson,  with  a 
catch  in  his  throat. 

"  Oscar  it  was — what  a  memory  you  must  have,  sir !  Oscar 
Stephenson!  He  used  to  think  he  could  do  a  little  in  your 
line,  sir,  but  he  was  here  to-day  and  there  to-morrow,  and 
he  never  did  anything  in  his  life  except  put  an  end  to  it. 
You  would  hear  what  happened — it  all  came  out  in  the 
newspapers." 

"  Died  abroad,  didn't  he  ?  " 

"  Shot  himself  in  a  gambling  hell,  sir." 

"  The  young  rascal !  "  said  the  captain,  taking  his  pipe 
out  of  his  mouth  to  laugh.  "  I  took  it  out  of  him  though. 
The  last  time  he  crossed  from  Iceland  I  made  him  sleep 
in  the  hold." 

"  Serve  him  right,  the  scoundrel,"  said  the  merchant. 

"  A  scoundrel,  was  he  ?  " 

"  He  used  to  beat  his  poor  young  wife  black  and  blue,  sir." 

"  Beat  his  wife,  you  say  ?  " 

"  She  died  of  his  ill-usage,  anyway.  He  killed  his  father, 
too.  The  night  he  went  away  he  broke  open  the  Governor's 
safe  and  carried  off  everything." 

"  Broke  open  the  Governor's  safe  ?  " 

"  That's  so — the  old  man  died  a  pauper." 

"  Died  a  pauper? " 

"  Left  nothing  behind  him,  so  it  comes  to  the  same  thing. 
Every  stick  in  the  house  had  to  be  sold  to  the  new  Minister." 

"  But  is  this  true  ?  " 

"  True  enough,  sir.    Everything  came  out  at  the  general 


312  THE    TRODIGAL    SON 

election.  The  Governor  and  tlie  old  Factor  were  rival  candi- 
dates, and  they  told  us  the  family  secrets." 

"  And  is  this  all  they  say  at  home  of  Oscar  Stephenson  ? " 

"All?    Not  a  tenth  of  it." 

"  Then  his  very  name  must  be  hated  in  Iceland  ? " 

"Hated?  Execrated,  sir.  Not  that  anybody  cares  about 
the  old  Governor;  he  is  dead  and  gone  with  the  rotten  system 
he  tried  to  support,  but  as  for  his  son,  nobody  can  say  bad 
enough  about  him." 

"  So  that  if  he  had  lived  and  come  back  alive " 

"  He  would  have  been  hounded  out  of  the  count  ly,  sir." 

"  Just  so,  just  so,"  said  Christian  Christiansson,  and  rising 
■with  a  startling  gesture  he  stumbled  back  to  his  stateroom. 

The  merchant  looked  after  him  uneasily.  "  Who  the  deuce 
can  he  be,  I  wonder !  " 

"I  wonder!  "  said  the  captain,  pulling  at  his  extinguished 
pipe. 

It  was  impossible !  The  odium  attaching  to  the  name  of 
Oscar  Stephenson  made  it  impossible  that  Christian  Chris- 
tiansson could  ever  reveal  his  identity.  He  had  thought  that 
the  dust  of  death  might  cover  his  transgressions,  but  rumor 
and  report  had  kept  them  alive  and  magnified  them.  Even 
the  effort  of  his  family  to  conceal  the  truth  about  his  offenses 
had  given  birth  to  falsehood  and  fostered  slander. 

The  people  of  Iceland  must  never  know  that  Christian 
Christiansson  was  Oscar  Stephenson.  If  they  suspected,  he 
must  use  means  to  deepen  his  disguise ;  if  they  questioned,  he 
must  deny. 

What  else  had  he  expected?  In  thinking  he  could  ever 
allow  himself  to  be  kno\vn  in  his  true  name  and  character, 
what  secret  craving  of  pride  and  vanity  had  he  been  cherish- 
ing unawares?  His  errand  to  Iceland  was  one  of  penance 
and  atonement — at  the  bottom  of  his  heart  he  had  been  look- 
ing to  it  as  the  top  and  high-tide  of  his  career,  the  flush 
and  crown  of  his  success,  as  the  hour  of  triumph  when  he  was 
to  justify  the  friends  who  had  loved  him,  and  to  put  to  rout 
the  enemies  who  had  hated  him,  and  to  come  off  with  flying 
colors  at  the  last.  If  so,  he  was  rightly  punished.  Oscar 
Stephenson  was  dead,  and  nothing  and  nobody  could  bring 
him  to  life  again. 


THE    PKODIGAL    SON  SJ3* 


ni 

Christian  Christiansson  became  more  reserved  as  the  ves- 
sel approached  its  destination.  Every  mile  of  the  voyage  was 
full  of  memories,  and  the  sweetest  were  the  bitterest,  the 
happiest  were  the  hardest  to  bear.  He  was  standing  in  the 
bow  when  he  caught  his  first  glimpse  of  Iceland,  glimmering 
white  and  blue  like  a  sheeted  ghost  in  the  distance  where  its 
glaciers  rose  out  of  the  sea.  And  then,  thinking  of  the  en- 
chanted hopes  of  the  days  when  he  had  first  seen  it  so,  and 
how  many  of  them  now  were  dead  under  ashes,  he  would 
have  broken  down  badly  but  for  the  captain,  who  came  up 
behind  him  and  said  in  his  cheery  croak : 

"  There  it  is,  sir!  There's  your  country !  That's  the  place 
you've  made  them  all  hear  about !  " 

Christian  Christiansson  returned  to  his  cabin  immediately, 
and  he  was  not  seen  on  deck  again  until  the  following  morn- 
ing, when  the  "Laura"  was  steaming  up  the  fiord.  And  theu 
the  merchant,  in  his  shore-going  hat  and  overcoat,  began  to 
point  out  the  sights  to  him  as  to  a  stranger. 

"  There's  the  old  town,  sir.  Bigger,  I'll  be  bound,  thaa 
when  you  saw  it  last.  That's  the  new  shipyard  on  the  right, 
and  that's  the  leper  hospital  on  the  left.  This  is  Engey,  tho 
island  with  the  eider  duck — famous  place  for  young  folks 
courting,  sir.  That's  the  old  cathedral  in  the  middle,  and 
that's  Government  House  to  the  left  of  it.  They're  nearly 
hidden  by  the  new  warehouses  now — I  built  them  myself, 
sir." 

The  "Laura"  cast  anchor  under  the  town,  amid  a  fleet  of 
smacks  and  coal-hulks,  and  remembering  how  he  had  stood 
tJiere  last.  Christian  Christiansson's  emotion  would  have 
mastered  him  again  but  for  the  bustle  that  was  going  on 
around — the  orders  of  the  captain  from  the  bridge,  the  shouts 
of  the  sailors  who  were  lowering  the  ladder,  and  the  cries  of 
•the  men  who  had  come  out  in  small  boats  and  were  clamber- 
ing up  to  the  deck. 

Christian  Christiansson  knew  most  of  the  boatmen,  though 
some  were  old  who  had  been  middle-aged,  and  some  were 
21 


314  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

middle-aged  ■who  had  been  young,  and  some  were  bearded 
who  had  been  boys.  But  none  of  them  recognized  Christian 
Christiansson,  as  they  tipped  their  hats  to  him  and  pushed 
past  to  the  officers  of  the  ship. 

"  Good  morning,  mate !  Good  morning,  Captain !  What 
passengers  this  time?" 

"  Only  one,  besides  Jon  Oddsson,  but  he's  a  host  in  him- 
self— Christian  Christiansson  !  " 

"What!     The  great  Christian  Christiansson?" 

In  less  than  three  minutes  half  the  small  boats  were  scurry- 
ing away  to  carry  the  news  to  the  town,  while  the  owners  of 
the  other  half  were  scrambling  for  Christiansson's  luggage  to 
have  the  honor  of  taking  it  ashore. 

"  Easy  on,  my  lads,"  shouted  the  captain.  "  Mr.  Chris- 
tiansson will  go  with  me  in  the  ship's  boat,  and  don't  you 
forget  it." 

It  was  a  full  half -hour  before  this  could  come  to  pass,  for 
Christian  Christiansson  had  first  to  drink  the  captain's  health 
and  the  ship's  luck  in  the  chart-room.  When  at  length  they 
were  going  ashore,  with  portmanteaus  piled  up  in  the  bow  o£ 
the  boat  and  the  captain  chattering  in  the  stern,  it  was  almost 
more  than  Christian  Christiansson  could  do  to  control  himself 
tinder  the  memory  of  the  dark  night  on  which  he  went  the 
other  way,  with  no  one  to  see  him  off  except  his  m,other,  whc 
eat  by  his  side  and  held  his  hand  as  if  she  could  never  part 
with  it. 

When  the  boat  drew  up  alongside,  the  jetty  was  packed 
with  people,  and  as  Christian  Christiansson  stepped  ashore, 
with  the  air  of  a  man  trying  to  escape  from  observation  but 
conscious  of  being  under  the  full  fire  of  it,  a  little  fat  fussy 
person  with  asthmatical  breathing — Christiansson  knew  him 
instantly — bowed  deeply  and  began  to  read  something  from 
a  sheet  of  foolscap  paper. 

It  was  an  effusive  address,  drawn  up  hastily  by  the  Chair- 
man of  the  Town  Board,  in  the  name  of  the  inhabitants, 
beginning,  "Illustrious  fellow-countryman,"  and  going  on  to 
hail  Christiansson  as  one  who  had  "  revived  the  ancient  spirit 
and  glory  of  a  thousand  years  ago." 

Agitated  and  ashnmed,  hardly  daring  to  speak  lest  the 
Bound  of  his  voice  shoidd  betray  him,  Christian  Christiansson 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  315 

replied  with  a  few  commonplaces,  and  then,  amid  a  whispered 
chorus  of  "  Modest !  "  "  The  modesty  of  greatness,  sir,"  he 
tried  to  push  his  way  toward  the  hotel. 

He  had  not  made  many  paces  before  he  was  confronted  by 
a  young  man  in  the  uniform,  hat,  and  cloak  of  a  Government 
Secretary,  who  parted  the  crowd  and  said,  in  the  breathless 
gasps  of  one  who  had  been  running: 

"  The  Minister's  compliments,  sir,  and  will  you  do  him  the 
honor  to  become  his  guest  at  Government  House  ? " 

Christian  Christiansson  tried  to  excuse  himself,  but  every 
eye  was  on  him,  and  seeing  that  he  could  not  escape  without 
the  danger  of  exposing  himself  to  suspicion,  he  yielded  and 
allowed  himself  to  be  led  away. 

The  little  journey  to  Government  House  was  like  the 
progress  to  a  Calvary.  Every  step  was  sown  with  memories — 
memories  of  the  pleasures,  the  passions,  the  darling  joys,  the 
sorrows  and  the  tragedies  of  the  past — but  while  they  seemed 
to  strike  up  at  him  out  of  the  very  stones  of  the  street,  he  had 
to  nod  and  smile  as  the  Secretary,  walking  by  his  side,  rattled 
along  with  explanations  and  descriptions  of  the  places  they 
passed  on  their  way. 

"  This  is  our  principal  thoroughfare,  Mr.  Christiansson. 
That  is  our  chief  hotel,  and  this  is  our  national  bank.  The 
large  building  flying  the  Iceland  falcon  is  our  parliament 
hall.  That  is  our  old  cathedral,  sir,  and  this — this  is  Govern- 
ment House." 

Suffocated  with  shame,  choking  with  a  sense  of  duplicity, 
and  trembling  with  the  fear  of  detection.  Christian  Chris- 
tiansson continued  to  say,  "  Yes  "  and  "  Is  that  so  ?  "  until  he 
reached  the  porch  of  his  old  home.  And  then,  remembering' 
how  and  when  he  had  passed  out  of  it  last — alone,  at  night, 
disgraced  and  with  his  father's  door  closed  against  him — it 
was  almost  as  much  as  he  could  do  to  restrain  an  impulse  to 
turn  about  and  fly.  But  just  at  that  moment  his  father's  door 
opened  quickly,  and  there  on  the  threshold  another  man,  in 
the  uniform  of  the  Governor,  stood  waiting  with  outstretched 
hand  to  welcome  him. 

The  palpitation  of  Christian  Christiansson's  heart  was  al- 
most choking  him.  What  wild  harlequinade  of  real  life  was 
this,  that  he  who  had  been  so  nearly  flung  out  of  Iceland 


316  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

should  be  received  back  to  it  with  open  arms?  What  mad 
game  of  blind-man's  buff  were  the  powers  of  destiny  playing 
with  him?  It  was  not  for  nothing  that  he  had  taken  the 
name  of  Christian  Christiansson.  What  invisible  wings  of 
Fate  had  been  over  him  when  he  did  so?  And  were  they 
plumed  to  honor  or  to  dishonor,  to  reward  or  to  punishment, 
to  joy  or  to  sorrow,  to  life  or  to  death? 


IV 

The  Sheriff  made  Minister  was  the  same  man  still.  He 
received  Christian  Christiansson  with  suavest  politeness  but 
without  a  trace  of  recognition. 

"  Welcome !  "  he  said.  "  Welcome  to  Iceland !  My  wife 
is  in  the  drawing-room — she  will  be  delighted  to  see  you.  We 
may  go  this  way — this  way  through  my  bureau — do  me  the 
honor  to  follow  me.  Don't  knock  against  the  stove — strangers 
do  sometimes.  A  ramshackle  old  house,  sir,  for  which  my 
predecessor  was  responsible — I'm  building  a  better  in  another 
part  of  the  town.  You've  not  yet  dined  ?  How  fortunate ! 
In  these  high  latitudes  we  keep  up  primitive  customs,  Mr. 
Christiansson.  We  dine  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  and  you 
are  just  in  the  nick  of  time.  I  was  holding  a  meeting  of  my 
executive  when  the  news  of  your  arrival  reached  me,  and  I 
took  the  liberty  to  invite  one  or  two  of  my  colleagues.  This 
is  the  drawing-room — have  the  goodness  to  step  inside." 

Muttering  monosyllables  only  in  reply  to  the  Ministers  ex- 
planations, Christian  Christiansson  followed  him  through 
the  house  that  was  as  familiar  as  the  palm  of  his  hand  until 
he  came  face  to  face  with  his  hostess  and  the  friends  who 
had  been  invited  to  meet  him. 

The  hostess  was  an  acquaintance  of  his  school-days,  grown 
middle-aged  and  matronly,  and  the  friends  were  the  liector 
of  the  Latin  School,  looking  elderly  and  iron-grey,  and  the 
Bishop,  looking  white  and  old.  They  received  him  with  the 
utmost  cordiality,  but,  like  the  Minister,  without  a  sign  of 
recognition. 

Christian  Christiansson  bowed  but  scarcely  spoke.  He  was 
no  longer  in  fear  of  discovery,  for  now  he  knew  that  unless 


THE    PRODIGAL    SOX  317 

he  wished  it  otherwise  he  could  pass  through  Iceland  un- 
known ;  but  standing  there  in  the  old  home,  with  the  traces  of 
his  boyhood  about  him,  his  heart  swelled  and  his  throat  thick- 
ened, and  it  was  as  much  as  he  could  do  to  control  himself. 

After  a  moment  a  servant  announced  dinner,  and  the 
Minister  led  the  way  to  the  dining-room.  It  was  the  same 
old  room,  with  the  same  furniture,  and  hardly  altered  in  any 
particular.  But  it  was  full  of  ghosts  in  the  eyes  of  him  who 
entered  it  again.  In  one  rapid  glance  Christian  Chris- 
tiansson  took  in  everything — the  chair  his  father  used  to  sit 
in,  his  mother's  place,  Magnus's,  and  Thora's.  And  remem- 
bering that  all  these  were  gone;  that  everything  connected 
with  his  own  people  had  faded  away;  that  the  old  house  was 
inhabited  by  others  now,  and  nothing  remained  except  him- 
self and  he  had  neither  part  nor  lot  in  it,  the  palpitation  of 
his  heart  nearly  choked  him  again,  and  he  sat  at  the  table 
like  a  guilty  thing. 

But  if  Christian  Christiansson  was  silent  the  Minister 
talked  incessantly. 

"  You  will  find  that  Iceland  knows  all  about  you,  Mr. 
Christiansson — all  about  you !  Speaking  for  myself  I  may 
say  that  in  addition  to  the  ordinary  channels  of  intelligence 
I  have  some  private  sources  of  information.  My  son — you 
know  my  son,  I  think  ? " 

Christian  Christiansson  bowed. 

"  My  son  has  kept  me  constantly  informed,  so  you  will  find 
me  abreast  of  all  your  movements.  Certainly,  I  take  it  amiss 
that  he  did  not  warn  me  of  your  coming — but  perhaps  he 
didn't  know.  He  didn't?  I  thought  as  much.  Not  that  he 
would  have  told  me  if  you  had  wished  it  concealed.  Neils  is 
discretion  itself,  sir — discretion  itself.  For  instance  I  could 
never  persuade  him  to  tell  me  who  you  were.  I  tempted  him 
— I  confess  I  tempted  him.  But  no !  *  Business  is  business, 
father,'  he  would  say,  and  I  was  forced  to  be  content." 

"  Iceland  is  honored  that  you  show  yourself  first  in  your 
own  coxmtry,  sir,"  said  the  Rector. 

"  Indeed  it  is.  Rector,  and  Mr.  Christiansson  will  find  that 
his  fame  is  no  empty  bubble  here." 

"  There  isn't  a  student  who  doesn't  sing  your  songs,  sir,'* 
said  the  Rector. 


318  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  ISTor  a  girl  of  fourteen  in  a  farmhouse  who  doesn't  play 
your  music,"  said  the  Minister's  wife. 

"  Wonderful !  "  said  the  Minister  himself.  "It's  perfectly 
wonderful!  But  I  always  say  the  musician  is  the  interna- 
tional artist.  Other  artists — the  poets  for  example — require 
their  translators,  but  the  musician  needs  no  go-between.  lie 
uses  the  one  universal  language,  and  when  he  speaks  the 
whole  world  may  hear.  What  a  gift !  What  a  thing  it  must 
be  to  be  among  the  great  composers !  Perhaps  it  has  its  pen- 
alties, though.  What  does  the  poet  say?  They  learn  in 
suffering  what  they  teach  in  song.  What  a  thought  that  is ! 
I  wonder  if  it's  true?  I  wonder  if  every  great  song,  eveiy 
great  symphony,  every  great  opera  is  born  of  the  suffering — 
the  actual  real  life  suffering,  and  perhaps  in  some  cases  the 
sin  and  sorrow — of  the  man  who  created  it!  What  should 
you  say,  Mr.  Christiansson  ?  " 

"  God  knows,"  said  Christiansson,  and  after  that  there  was 
silence  for  a  moment. 

"  Poor  Stephen ! "  said  the  Bishop  suddenly,  and  then 
everj'body  raised  his  face  from  the  table. 

"  I  was  thinking,"  said  the  Bishop,  "  that  if  sin  and  sorrow, 
added  to  the  gift  of  genius,  go  to  the  making  of  great  music, 
somebody  was  born  in  this  very  house  who  should  have  left 
immortal  works  behind  him.'' 

Christian  Christiansson  had  looked  up  with  the  rest,  and 
now  the  Minister  leaned  across  to  him  and  said  in  an  under- 
tone, "  A  sad  story,  sir — a  son  of  my  predecessor  who  made 
shipwreck  of  his  life,  poor  fellow." 

"You  mean  Oscar  Stephenson?" 

"Yes,  indeed.  But  can  it  be  possible  that  you  knew 
him?" 

"  We  talked  of  him  on  the  steamer." 

"  Ah,  of  course,  certainly !  And  then  he  was  a  kind  of 
humble  confrere  of  youi-s,  and  conducted  at  Covent  Garden. 
What  a  tragedy !  What  a  scandal !  When  the  dreadful  news 
came  from  Nice  everybody  here  felt  ashamed.  Such  a  well- 
known  Iceland  name,  and  the  son  of  a  fonner  Governor!  It 
was  almost  as  if  Iceland  had  been  dishonored  in  the  eyes 
of  the  world,  sir.  So  different,  so  entirely  different,  from  the 
effects,  the  glorious  effects  of  your  own  magnificent  achieve- 
ments." 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  319 

Christian  Christiansson  was  quivering  from  heart  to  eye- 
lids, but  the  same  mysterious  impulse  that  compels  the  lamb 
to  confront  the  dog  forced  him  to  go  on. 

"  His  mother  is  alive,  isn't  she  ? "  he  said. 

"  Anna  ?  Yes !  She's  alive — that's  nearly  all  you  can  say 
about  her." 

Christian  Christiansson's  voice  deepened  and  shook.  "  Is 
she  sick  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Sick  in  fortune  at  all  events.  When  the  old  Governor 
died  she  went  to  live  with  her  other  son  at  Thingvellir,  and 
he  is  in  trouble  again,  poor  creature." 

"In  debt,  isn't  he?" 

"  Yes,  he  is  in  debt  to  the  Bank  for  the  interest  and  prin- 
cipal of  some  money  which  his  father  borrowed  on  mortgage 
to  keep  his  brother  out  of  prison." 

"  And  what  is  the  Bank  going  to  do  with  him  ?  " 

"  Sell  him  up  immediately." 

Christian  Christiansson  sank  into  silent  reverie  again,  and 
when  the  conversation  at  the  table  had  taken  another  turn, 
he  said  unexpectedly: 

"  He  left  a  child  behind  him,  didn't  he  ?  " 

"  Who,  sir  ?    Oh,  Oscar  Stephenson  ?    He  did — a  girl." 

"  She's  living,  too,  isn't  she  ?  " 

"  She  is,  sir — that  is  to  say,  for  all  I  know  to  the  contrary. 
Rector,  Oscar's  little  daughter  is  still  alive,  is  she  not  ? " 

"  Alive  and  well  and  hearty,"  said  the  Rector. 

Christian  Christiansson's  eyes  brightened  visibly.  "  That's 
good  news,  at  all  events,"  he  said. 

The  altered  tone  startled  everybody,  and  nobody  spoke  for 
a  little  while.     Then  the  Minister  said : 

"  It  is  really  very  good  of  you  to  take  an  interest  in  the 
family  of  your  poor  dead  confrere,  and  if  I'd  had  the  least 
idea  you  wished  to  hear  more  about  them  it  would  have 
been  so  easy — I  might  have  invited  the  banker." 

"  I'll  see  him  to-morrow,"  said  Christian  Christiansson, 
and  then,  breaking  through  his  reserve,  he  talked  for  the 
next  half-hour  on  other  subjects. 

He  talked  well  and  the  company  were  delighted,  for  there 
was  no  one  to  know  that  his  vivacity  was  nervousness  and 
his  laughter  something  like  shame.    When  the  dinner  waa 


320  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

at  an  end  the  Bishop,  who  had  fixed  his  eyes  constantly 
on  Christian  Christiansson,  rose  and  held  out  his  hand  to 
him. 

"  It  has  been  a  great  happiness  to  have  seen  you,  Mr.  Chris- 
tiansson," he  said,  "  and  I  trust  we  may  meet  again.  I  know 
nothing  of  music,  sir,  but  I  rejoice  to  see  that  the  noble 
musician  is  only  another  name  for  the  noble  man,  and  I  pray 
God  to  bless  you  body  and  soul." 

Christian  Christiansson  could  not  trust  himself  to  reply, 
for  the  Bishop's  praise  added  a  new  bitterness  to  his  remorse, 
so  he  stooped  over  the  old  man's  hand  and  kissed  it. 

The  Bishop  was  pleased  and  touched.  "  IIow  charming 
lie  is !  How  perfectly  charming !  "  he  said,  as  he  put  on  his 
overcoat  in  the  porch.  "  He  reminds  me  of  some  one  I've 
met  somewhere." 

"  Me,  too,"  said  the  Eector. 

"  Those  beautiful  manners,  that  captivating  smile,  and  that 
voice  that  goes  through  and  through  you !  " 

"  Does  he  resemble — or  is  it  only  because  we  have  been 
talking  at  table " 

"  You  mean  poor  young " 

"  Yes." 

"Ah  me !  "  said  the  Bishop  as  he  opened  the  door.  "  What 
brave  things  he  might  have  done  if  Heaven  had  willed  it !  " 

"  He  might  have  been  another  Christian  Christiansson  by 
this  time,"  said  the  Eector. 

"Poor  Stephen!"  said  the  Bishop. 

"  Poor  Anna !  "  said  the  Rector,  and  the  two  old  friends 
went  heavily  down  the  path. 

Meantime  the  man  they  were  talking  of,  though  they  did 
not  know  it,  was  going  through  an  agony  of  self-reproach. 
The  duplicity  of  winning  his  way  to  the  love  and  esteem  of 
his  people  under  the  cover  of  a  false  name  was  suffocating 
him.  It  was  necessary,  it  was  inevitable,  it  was  a  part  of 
the  conduct  that  was  forced  upon  him  by  the  errand  that 
had  brought  him  home,  but  if  they  who  welcomed  him  in 
the  ignorance  of  their  enthusiasm  could  know  who  he  was, 
how  their  hearts  would  turn  from  him;  how  their  sympathy 
would  change  to  loathing  and  their  admiration  to  contempt! 

The  evening  was  one  of  jDrolonged  suffering  to  Christian 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  321 

Christiansson,  for  evei^'thing  that  happened  in  that  house, 
every  trivial  object  that  met  his  eye,  seemed  charged  with  the 
power  to  torture  him.  As  soon  as  he  could,  he  excused  him- 
self, and  asked  to  be  shown  to  his  room. 

They  showed  him  to  the  bedroom  that  had  been  occupied 
by  Thora ! 

That  was  the  last  drop  in  his  cup.  He  felt  like  a  man  who 
had  stumbled  into  a  hidden  grave,  and  he  wanted  to  say, 
"  Give  me  any  room  in  the  house  except  this."  But  he  dared 
not  speak,  lest  his  slightest  word  should  betray  him. 

When  the  door  was  closed,  he  flung  himself  in  the  arm- 
chair before  the  stove,  and  then  one  after  one,  as  by  flashes 
of  lightning,  he  saw  over  again  the  scenes  of  his  life  with 
which  that  room  was  associated.  He  thought  of  his  wedding 
night,  when  with  a  fluttering  heart  he  came  on  tiptoe  into  the 
cosy  nest  of  his  bridal  chamber,  and  heard  Thora's  tremulous 
breathing  behind  the  curtains  of  the  bed.  He  thought  of  the 
joyous  morning  when  her  pale  face  shone  like  sunshine,  and 
the  air  of  the  room  was  full  of  auroral  radiance,  because  a 
child  was  bom  to  them.  He  thought  of  the  dark  day  when 
he  found  her  lying  dead,  and  of  the  heavy  hour  when  he  took 
his  last  look  at  her,  and  buried  his  compositions  in  her 
coffin. 

Oh,  miserable  mummery!  Oh,  broken  and  senseless  vow! 
Yet  not  senseless  either,  save  to  his  own  violated  intention, 
for  now  he  knew  why  he  had  taken  the  name  of  Christian 
Christiansson.  In  the  blind  spasm  of  his  accusing  conscience 
he  had  thought  it  was  merely  in  order  to  deny  himself  the 
fame  which  his  works  were  to  win  for  him,  but  the  inscrutable 
and  ironical  powers  of  Destiny  had  sterner  purposes  than 
that. 

It  was  in  order  that,  being  dead  as  Oscar  Stephenson,  he 
should  yet  return  to  Iceland;  in  order  that  he  should  see  the 
accumulated  consequences  of  his  conduct;  in  order  that  he 
should  follow,  as  if  with  bare  feet  on  the  hot  ground  of  a 
geyser,  the  footsteps  and  the  funeral  of  his  youth;  in  order 
that  the  living  might  torture  him  with  gratitude,  and  the  dead 
with  memories;  in  order  that  God's  right  hand  of  Justice 
should  fall  on  him  as  it  had  never  fallen  before,  and  every- 
thins:  he  had  done  should  be  paid  for. 


322  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

This  was  "why  he  had  taken  the  name  and  won  the  fame  of 
Christian  Christiansson.  And  the  martyrdom  of  his  new  life 
was  beginning. 


As  soon  as  the  Bank  opened  in  the  morning  Christian 
Christiansson  called  on  the  manager,  and  was  received  with 
extravagant  politeness. 

"  I  must  take  the  liberty  to  introduce  myself,"  he  began. 

"  Quite  unnecessary,"  said  the  banker  with  a  bow,  "  all  the 
world — I  say  all  the  world,  sir,  has  been  introduced  to  you." 

"  You  would  receive  a  letter  from  my  banker  in  Lon- 
don  " 

"  We  did — it  came  with  the  mail  that  was  brought  by  the 
'  Laura.' " 

"  I  think  it  asks  you  to  honor  my  signature  up  to  two 
hundred  thousand  crowns." 

"  That  is  the  amount,  sir — two  hundred  thousand.  And 
if  you  wish  to  draw  any  of  it  immediately " 

"I  do,"  said  Christian  Christiansson,  and  taking  a  large 
pocket-book  from  his  breast-pocket  he  drew  out  a  cheque- 
book and  took  up  a  pen. 

"  Mr.  Palsson,"  he  said — the  banker  started  at  the  mention 
of  his  name,  then  bowed  and  smiled — "  I  was  much  touched 
by  a  case  of  distress  which  the  Minister  spoke  of  at  dinner 
yesterday,  and  I  could  wish  to  be  of  some  assistance." 

"  You  are  very  generous,  Mr.  Christiansson,  and  if  I  can 
be  of  the  slightest  use  to  you — I  say  if  I  can  be  of  the  slightest 
use,  sir,  pray  be  good  enough  to  command  me." 

"  It  was  the  case  of  the  family  of  the  late  Governor — I 
understand  that  they  are  in  debt  to  the  Bank  and  that  the 
Bank  is  in  the  act  of  distraining." 

"  Unhappily  true,  sir,  but  the  Bank  has  been  very  indul- 
gent— I  say  the  Bank  has  been  very  indulgent — it  was  impos- 
sible to  hold  back  longer." 

"  I  think  that  the  debt  is  for  interest  on  a  mortgage  on 
the  Inn-farm  at  Thingvellir,  and  that  the  money  was  bor- 
rowed by  the  father  of  the  present  owner  ?  " 

"  That  is  so,  sir,  but  the  interest  is  long  in  arrears,  and 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  323 

tibe  mortgage — I  say  the  mortgage  itself,  sir,  is  the  reverse 
of  a  good  security." 

"  Mr.  Palsson,"  said  Christian  Christiansson,  "  if  I  were 
to  pay  you  the  interest  out  of  my  own  pocket  would  that 
stop  the  proceedings  ?  " 

The  banker's  breath  seemed  to  be  arrested.  "  You  are  very 
good,  sir,"  he  said  after  a  moment.  "  But  the  interest  is 
large;  you  can  hardly  be  prepared  for  the  amount  of  it." 

"  What  is  the  amount  of  it  ? "  asked  Christian  Christians- 
son. 

"  Eight  thousand  crowns  at  least,  sir — I  say  at  least  eight 
thousand.  And  in  any  case  I  should  be  unable  to  receive  it. 
Things  have  gone  too  far.  The  deed  of  execution  has  been 
served,  the  advertisements  of  the  auction  have  been  published, 
and  the  whole  matter  is  now  in  the  hands  of  the  Sheriff." 

"  When  is  the  auction  to  take  place  ?  " 

"Let  me  see,"  said  the  banker,  consulting  a  newspaper, 
"  this  is  the  last  day  of  the  year,  the  auction  is  advertised  for 
to-morrow,  sir." 

"  Did  you  say  to-morrow  ? "  said  Christian  Christiansson, 
rising  suddenly. 

"  To-morrow  at  nine  in  the  morning,  sir." 

Christian  Christiansson  resumed  his  seat  and  sat  for  some 
moments  nibbling  the  top  of  the  pen.     Then  he  said : 

"  Mr.  Palsson,  I  have  been  many  years  abroad,  but  I  seem 
to  remember  that  when  landed  property  has  to  be  sold  by  the 
law  in  Iceland  three  auctions  are  necessary — two  at  the  office 
of  the  Sheriff,  and  the  third  on  the  estate  itself." 

"  That  is  so,  sir,  but  unfortunately  this  is  the  third — the 
two  others  have  taken  place  already." 

"  So  the  Inn- farm  must  go  to  the  hammer  in  any  case  ?  " 

"  It  must  go  to  the  hammer  in  any  case." 

"  You  think  there  is  no  help  for  it  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure,  sir — I  say  I  am  sure  there  is  no  help  for  it." 

"  Ah,  well — if  it  must  be,  it  must  be,"  said  Christian  Chris- 
tiansson, and  then,  as  by  an  after-thought,  dipping  the  pen  in 
the  ink,  "  The  interest  is  eight  thousand  crowns,  you  say  ?  " 

"  At  least  eight  thousand,  sir.  With  legal  and  other  ex- 
penses probably  ten — I  say  probably  ten." 

"  And  the  principal  is " 


324  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  The  principal  is  one  hundred  thousand,  sir." 

"  Poor  souls,  poor  souls !  "  said  Christian  Christiansson. 
He  began  to  write  his  cheque,  but  the  banker  went  on  talk- 
ing. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  the  mother,  sir — I  say  I  am  sorry  for  the 
mother.  She  belongs  to  a  generation  which  is  rapidly  passing 
away,  but  there  are  still  many  in  the  town  who  remember  her. 
A  good,  motherly  soul,  sir — it  is  a  pity  misfortune  should 

fall  so  fast  on  her  in  the  evening  of  her  days Blotting 

paper  ?  " 

"  Thank  you." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  the  son,  too — I  am  very  sorry  for  the  son. 
An  Ishmael,  sir — always  was  and  always  will  be — but  he  seems 
to  have  had  a  terrible  time  of  it.  To  tell  the  truth  the  farm 
was  frightfully  over-mortgaged  at  the  beginning,  and  if  he 
had  thrown  it  up  fifteen  years  ago  it  might  have  been  better 
for  himself  and  the  Bank  and  everybody.  Apparently  he 
wished  to  hold  on  to  it  for  the  sake  of  the  family,  and  to  give 
the  poor  wretch  his  due  he  has  made  a  splendid  fight  for  it — 
I  say  he  has  made  a  splendid  fight  for  it." 

Christian  Christiansson  had  written  his  cheque  and  was 
tearing  it  out  of  the  cheque-book. 

"  Then,  as  you  say,  sir,  the  mortgage  was  not  made  by 
himself,  and  everybody  knows  the  conditions  under  which  the 
first  debt  was  contracted.  Ah,  if  that  scapegrace  brother 
could  only  be  here  to-day!  When  a  man  does  wrong  he 
seems  to  think  the  consequences  of  his  crime  will  end  with 
his  own  action,  but  they  are  like  snowballs  rolling  in  the 

snow — I  say  they  are  like Two  hundred  thou«\and  crowns, 

sir?" 

Christian  Christiansson  had  handed  his  cheque  to  the 
banker,  and  the  banker,  fixing  his  eye-glasses,  was  reading  the 
amount  of  it. 

"  Do  you  really  mean  that  you  wish  to  draw  the  vrhole  sum 
at  once,  Mr.  Christiansson  ?  " 

"  If  you  please,"  said  Christian  Christiansson. 

The  banker  began  to  laugh.  "  Certainly  we  have  no  high- 
waymen in  Iceland,  sir — I  say  we  have  no  highwaymen* — but 
unless  the  money  is  wanted  for  immediate  purposes ^ 

"  It  is  wanted  for  immediate  purposes,  Mr.  Palsson." 


THE    PKODIGAL    SON  325 

"  In  that  case,  of  course — certainly — may  I  ask  you  to  wait 
a  little?" 

It  took  half-an-hour  to  find  the  money  for  Christian  Chris- 
tiansson's  cheque,  and  when  it  came  it  was  in  three  bank- 
notes of  fifty  thousand  each,  signed  specially  by  the  Minister, 
and  fifty  other  notes  of  a  thousand.  Christiansson  put  the 
whole  of  them  in  his  pocket-book,  and  they  filled  it  to  its 
utmost  capacity. 

"  I've  given  you  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  Mr.  Palsson." 

"  It  has  been  a  pleasure,  sir — I  say  it  has  been  a  pleasure. 
I  only  regret  that  I  was  unable  to  help  you  in  that  other 
matter.  If  you  had  come  to  me  two  days  ago  I  should  have 
sent  a  messenger  to  the  Sheriff,  and  perhaps  he " 

"  Who  is  the  Sheriff  in  that  case,  Mr.  Palsson?  " 

"  The  Sheriff  of  Ames,  sir.     He  lives  at  Borg." 

"  How  far  is  that  from  Thingvellir  ?  " 

"  Only  some  thirty  to  forty  miles,  sir." 

"  About  as  far  as  from  here  to  there?  " 

"  About  the  same,  sir,  but  in  this  country  of  no  roads  and 
no  railwaj's  that  is  sometimes  a  long  day's  journey." 

"  Just  so !     Good  day,  and  thank  you,  Mr.  Palsson !  " 

"  Good  day  to  you,  Mr.  Christiansson,"  said  the  banker, 
and  looking  after  him  he  thought,  "  What  does  he  want  with 
two  hundred  thousand  crowns  at  once,  I  wonder?  And  why 
— I  say  why  did  he  wish  to  pay  the  interest  for  Magnus 
Stephenson  ? " 

"  Thank  God  I've  come  in  time !  "  thought  Christian  Chris- 
tiansson. 

And  going  out  of  the  Bank  he  told  himself,  with  a  thrill  of 
hope  an^  joy,  that  the  inscrutable  powers  of  Destiny,  which 
seemed  to  have  made  him  the  plaything  of  chance  and  error, 
could  not  be  wholly  evil  if  they  had  brought  him  back  to 
Iceland  at  the  moment  of  his  i)^ople's  greatest  peril,  that  he 
might  succor  and  save  them  at  their  utmost  need. 


326  THE    PRODIGAL    SOW 


VI 


The  morning  was  heavy  and  cheerless.  Dark  woolly  clouds 
were  rolling  over  the  mountains,  a  cold  wind  was  coming  up 
from  the  east,  and  the  voice  of  the  North  Sea  was  loud  and 
shrill. 

"  We  shall  have  snow  before  the  year's  out,  sir,"  said  one  of 
a  group  of  fishermen  who  were  stamping  their  feet  and  beat- 
ing their  arms  at  the  bottom  of  the  Bank  steps. 

"  No  time  to  lose !  "  thought  Christian  Christiansson.  "  I 
must  send  for  horses  immediately  and  start  oil  without  delay." 

But  before  going  to  Thingvellir  there  was  something  to  do 
in  Reykjavik,  and  that  was  the  most  important  thing  of  all — 
by  some  excuse  or  subterfuge  he  had  to  see  his  child  as  a  first 
step  toward  claiming  and  recovering  her.  She  had  been  ten 
years  at  the  farm,  but  he  thought  she  was  still  at  the  Factor's, 
and  he  bent  his  steps  in  that  direction. 

Of  the  Factor  himself  he  knew  no  more  than  he  had  been 
able  to  glean  at  breakfast  without  betraying  a  particular  in- 
terest— that  he  was  still  alive,  that  enough  had  been  saved 
out  of  the  wreck  of  his  fortunes  to  enable  him  to  keep  his 
house,  and  that  he  lived  the  life  of  a  misanthrope,  blaming 
the  whole  world  for  his  misfortunes  and  all  the  trouble  of 
his  days. 

Christian  Christiansson  might  have  walked  to  the  Factor's 
blindfold,  but  the  house  itself  when  he  came  in  front  of  it 
seemed  strangely  unfamiliar.  The  once  bright  little  villa 
looked  like  a  witless  man  who  has  lost  his  place  in  the  world 
and  all  hope  and  all  respect  for  himself.  The  white  paint  of 
the  walls  was  cracked  and  dirty,  the  windows  were  smeared 
with  the  salt  which  is  borne  on  the  breath  of  the  sea,  the 
garden  was  wild,  and  the  cobbled  path  was  overgrown  with 
grass. 

It  was  hardly  like  a  house  a  young  girl  might  live  in,  but 
after  he  had  rung  the  bell  he  listened  for  a  light  step  in  the 
hall.  The  door  was  opened  by  a  withered  old  woman  in  white 
ringlets,  with  her  gown  tucked  up  in  front.  It  was  Aunt 
Margret,  but  the  little  old  maid,  once  so  pert  and  dainty,  had 


THE    PEODIGAL    SON  327 

the  neglected  and  frightened  look  of  a  cat  in  an  empty  house, 
left  behind  and  forgotten. 

Her  face  was  the  first  he  had  yet  seen  of  the  faces  of  his 
own  people,  and  so  hard  did  he  find  it  to  play  his  part  that  he 
had  mentioned  her  name  before  he  was  aware  of  it,  and  she 
had  started  perceptibly,  as  if  at  the  sound  of  a  familiar  voice. 

"  Is  your  brother  at  home,  Margret  Neilsen  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  He  is  always  at  home,"  she  answered,  "  but  he  never  re- 
ceives anybody  now.    Who  shall  I  say  wishes  to  see  him  ?  " 

"  Say  that  Christian  Christiansson  would  like  to  speak  to 
him." 

Aunt  Margret,  who  was  not  wearing  her  spectacles,  seemed 
to  listen  for  a  moment  as  to  a  voice  that  came  to  her  from 
afar,  and  then  she  asked  him  into  the  house. 

As  he  passed  through  the  hall  he  listened,  in  his  turn,  for 
the  silvery  voice  he  wished  to  hear,  but  he  heard  nothing  save 
the  soimd  of  his  own  footsteps,  for  the  house  echoed  like  a 
vault.  The  sense  of  change  made  him  forget  for  a  moment 
the  object  of  his  visit,  and  when  he  stepped  into  the  sitting- 
room  and  found  the  familiar  room  so  different  from  what  he 
remembered  it,  so  bare,  so  bleak,  so  stamped  with  the  seal  of 
poverty  (with  its  scrap  of  worn  carpet  on  the  floor  and  its  two 
broken  firebricks  in  the  cold  stove),  he  felt  as  if  the  ironical 
powers  that  controlled  his  fate  had  brought  him  there  not  to 
see  his  child  but  only  to  torture  him. 

After  a  moment  the  Factor  came  in  with  the  old  fire  in  his 
eyes  and  the  old  spirit  in  his  step,  but  wearing  a  threadbare 
skull-cap  over  a  threadbare  suit  that  had  once  been  black,  and 
looking  like  a  grey  rock  in  a  green  place  when  the  sun  has 
gone  from  it,  leaving  it  grim  and  hoary. 

"  I  heard  of  your  arrival,  Mr.  Christiansson,"  he  said,  "  and 
I  suppose  I  ought  to  thank  you  for  your  call,  but  I  am  an  old 
man  who  has  lived  past  his  day,  and  I  can't  think  why  you 
wished  to  see  me." 

Christian  Christiansson  had  his  subterfuge  ready.  "  Com- 
ing from  London,"  he  said,  "  I  thought  I  might  be  able  to  tell 
you  something  of  your  daughter." 

"  Helga  ?     You  know  my  daughter  Helga  ?  " 

"  I  used  to  know  her,  but  our  ways  have  parted,  and  we 
have  met  only  once  in  ten  years.  Nevertheless  I  know  all 
about  her,  and  can  tell  you  what  has  happened." 


328  'I'HE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  What  ^05  happened,  sir  ?  " 

"  She  has  become  a  great  singer." 

"  A  singer,  has  she  ?  " 

"  A  great  opera-singer." 

"  Then  she's  rich,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  In  the  way  of  being  so,  perhaps,  but  famous  at  all  events, 
and  a  favorite  all  over  Europe." 

The  Factor  was  silent  for  a  moment,  leaning  on  his  stick ; 
then  he  said: 

"  Well,  that  will  suit  her  mother,  I  daresay.  As  for  me  I 
don't  think  it  matters.  It's  ten  years  since  Helga  Neilsen  left 
Iceland,  and  I've  never  seen  the  scribe  of  a  line  from  her 
since.  If  she's  rich  I'm  poor  and  she  doesn't  care  anything 
about  it.  What  I  call  a  daughter  is  one  who  remembers  her 
father  when  he  is  old  and  past  work  and  the  world  has  got  its 
heel  on  him.  I  had  a  daughter  like  that  once,  but  they  killed 
her  between  them — they  killed  her  between  them,  I  say." 

Th  old  man's  voice  was  breaking,  and  thinking  to  comfort 
him  Christian  Christiansson  said,  hardly  knowing  what  he 
was  saying: 

"  I  heard  of  your  trouble,  Mr.  Neilsen." 

"  When  did  you  hear  of  it  ?  Helga  couldn't  have  told  you. 
She  had  too  much  to  do  with  her  sister's  death  to  talk  of  it. 
"Did  you,  perhaps — in  those  days  you  speak  of — did  you  know 
my  daughter's  husband  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Christian  Christiansson,  for  in  that  heart- 
quelling  moment  there  seemed  to  be  no  escape  from  it. 

"  Then  you  knew  a  scoundrel,  sir,"  said  the  Factor. 

Christian  Christiansson  dared  not  flinch,  though  the  Fac- 
tor's lash  had  cut  him  to  the  bone.  With  a  throttled  utter- 
ance he  tried  to  plead  for  charity.  "  Oscar  Stephenson  never 
ceased  to  reproach  himself  for  his  share  in  Thora's  death  or 
to  mourn " 

"  It's  a  pretty  way  to  mourn  for  one  daughter  to  corrupt 
another,"  said  the  Factor. 

"Corrupt?" 

"  What  ehe  was  it  ?  He  hadn't  been  a  year  in  London 
before  he  persuaded  Helga  to  follow  him." 

"  Mr.  Neilsen,  I  have  no  right  to  speak  for  the  man  we  are 
talking  of,  but  Helga  is  your  daughter,  and  if  it  is  any  com- 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  329 

fort  to  you  I  tell  you  that  you  are  wrong — I  know  you  are 


"  How  do  you  know — he  lived  in  the  same  house,  didn't 
he?" 

"  Nevertheless  I — I  believe  in  my  heart  that  whatever 
his  failures  of  duty  to  your  daughter  Thora  while  she 
was  alive,  when  she  was  dead  he  reverenced  her  memory  too 
much  to " 

"  Was  it  reverencing  her  memory  to  sell  the  right  to  violate 
her  grave,  and  then  waste  the  money  at  the  gaming-tables  ? " 

The  perspiration  was  breaking  out  on  Christian  Christians- 
son's  forehead  and  he  had  forgotten  the  object  of  his  errand, 
when  the  door  opened  and  he  looked  up  in  the  expectation  of 
seeing  Elin.  It  was  only  Aunt  Margret  again,  but  now 
washed  and  oiled,  and  wearing  her  spectacles. 

Christian  Christiansson  placed  a  chair  for  the  childless 
woman,  and  began  to  talk  about  the  child. 

"  The  man  we  are  speaking  of  had  his  faults,  God  knows, 
but  if  you  had  heard  him  talk  about  you,  sir,  and  your  sister 
and  his  daughter — especially  his  little  daughter " 

"  He  talked  about  his  daughter,  did  he  ?  " 

"  Constantly — he  seemed  to  be  always  thinking  of  her," 

"  He  never  did  anything  else,  then.  He  left  me  to  bring 
her  up  and  never  sent  a  penny  toward  her  support." 

"  He  was  poor  himself  perhaps — indeed  I  know  he  was 
poor." 

"  Then  what  about  the  letters  he  wrote  to  his  mother, 
bragging  of  his  business  and  the  fine  friends  he  was  making  ?  " 

Christian  Christiansson  dropped  his  head. 

"  And  when  my  own  business  was  broken  up,  did  he  offer 
to  relieve  me  of  my  burden  ? " 

"  That  was  af teinvard,  Oscar — you  are  confusing  the  dates," 
said  Aunt  Margret. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  Margret  Neilsen — I  know  what  I'm 
Baying.  No,  sir,  when  the  ingrate  at  Government  House 
made  me  a  bankrupt  and  I  didn't  know  if  I  should  have  a 
Toof  to  cover  me,  it  was  the  father's  brother  who  had  to  take 
the  child  off  my  hands." 

"Magnus?" 

"  Magnus  Stephenson,  and  he  had  his  mother  to  provide 
for  already." 
22 


330  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"Then  Elin  is  at  Thingvellir!  And  Magnus  has  been 
bringing  her  up  all  these  years!  How  good  of  him!  And 
now  he  is  a  broken  man  himself,  poor  fellow !  " 

"  Serve  him  right  if  he  is,"  said  the  Factor.  "  I've  no  pity 
for  him  either — he  was  the  beginning  of  all  the  trouble." 

"  But  when  a  brave  man  who  has  bome  other  people's 
burdens " 

"  A  brave  fool,  you  mean,  sir.  Fortune  comes  to  every  man 
once,  sir,  and  it  came  to  him,  but  he  wouldn't  have  it.  Look 
at  this  room,  sir.  You  may  not  believe  it,  but  I  used  to  have 
four  assistants  eating  and  drinking  with  me  here,  and  Magnus 
Stephenson  was  one  of  them.  He  had  good  ideas  in  those 
days,  and  if  he  had  stayed  with  me  we  should  have  kept  out 
the  free  traders,  and  he  would  have  been  the  first  man  in  the 
west  of  Iceland  by  this  time.  I  gave  him  every  chance,  too. 
I  was  willing  to  make  him  my  partner  and  marry  him  to  my 
daughter  Thora.  But  no,  grasp  all  lose  all,  he  insulted  my 
girl  and  turned  up  his  nose  at  my  contract.  And  now  he's 
down,  but  he's  not  done  yet.  What  gets  wet  on  a  fool  gets 
dry  on  a  knave,  and  Magnus  Stephenson  will  be  worse  than  a 
bankrupt  before  we've  heard  the  end  of  him." 

"  Mr.  Neilsen,"  said  Christian  Christiansson,  who  was 
breathing  heavily,  "you  are  wrong  again,  and  you  ought  to 
know  it." 

"  Who  says  I  am  wrong,  sir?    And  what  am  I  wrong  in? " 

"  You  are  wrong  in  thinking  that  when  Magnus  Stephen- 
son refused  to  marry  your  daughter  Thora  he  did  so  from 
selfishness." 

"  If  it  wasn't  selfishness,  sir,  what  was  it?  " 

"  It  was  unselfishness — sublime  unselfishness." 

"So?" 

"  Thora  had  found  that  she  loved  his  brother  Oscar,  and  to 
make  her  happy  Magnus  was  willing  to  give  her  up  to  him. 
But  the  contract  was  made,  and  you  had  built  all  your  hopes 
on  it,  so  to  save  your  daughter  from  your  displeasure  he 
allowed  it  to  appear  that  he  refused  her,  although  he  loved 
her  dearly  and  his  heart  was  breaking." 

The  Factor  rose  to  his  feet  with  a  wild  lustre  in  his  eyea. 
"  But  is  this  true?  "  he  said. 

"  It  is  God's  truth,  sir." 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  331 

"  Who  did  you  have  it  from?  " 

"  From  one  who  should  have  told  you  himself  fifteen  years 
ago  but  dared  not." 

The  Factor  turned  rigidly  to  his  sister.  "  Margret  Neilsen, 
do  you  hear  what  he  is  saying  ?  " 

Aunt  Margret,  who  was  breathing  audibly,  merely  bowed 
her  head. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  say  to  you,  sir.  If  what  you  tell 
me  is  true  I've  been  hating  the  wrong  man  for  half  a  life- 
time.    And  yet  people  talk  of  Providence !  " 

"  God  veils  His  face  from  us.  Factor.  We  are  only  Hia 
little  children.     He  has  His  own  plans  and  purposes." 

"  Good  Lord !  sir,"  said  the  Factor  in  a  husky  croak,  "  what 
purpose  can  there  be  in  blinding  a  man  for  fifteen  years  and 
letting  him  break  up  all  his  friendships  ?  " 

He  was  walking  to  and  fro  to  calm  his  nerves  under  the 
shock  as  of  a  moral  earthquake. 

"  If  I  have  been  wrong  about  Magnus  I  may  have  been 
wrong  about  Oscar,  also.  I  got  frightened  when  he  signed  my 
name,  so  I  helped  to  send  him  out  of  Iceland.  And  now  he 
is  dead !  " 

Christian  Christiansson's  head  was  down — his  throat  was 
surging. 

"  His  father  is  dead,  too.  We  quarrelled  about  our  chil- 
dren, and  now  it  seems  it  all  began  with  a  blunder !  He  was 
my  friend  for  fifty  years,  and  I've  never  had  another.  There's 
no  such  thing  as  making  an  old  friend  in  your  old  age,  sir, 
and  when  your  friends  are  gone  the  world  gets  lonely.  Per- 
haps I  was  hard  on  Oscar,  too.  He  was  my  godson.  I  liked 
the  boy  in  spite  of  everything,  and  he  always  came  to  see  the 
old  man  the  minute  he  set  foot  in  Iceland." 

Christian  Christiansson  wanted  to  throw  off  all  disguise 
«nd  cry,  "  And  I'm  here  again,  godfather,"  but  he  could  not 
and  dared  not  speak.  He  rose  to  go,  and  the  Factor  took  him 
to  the  door. 

"  I'll  come  again  before  I  leave  the  country,"  he  said  at  the 
last  moment,  "  and  then  perhaps  I'll  have  something  to  say 
to  you." 

When  the  Factor  returned  to  the  sitting-room,  looking  like 
thp  same  grey  rock  but  with  clouds  enveloping  it.  Aunt  Mar- 


332  THE    PEODIGAL    SON 

gret,  who  had  scarcely  moved,  said  in  the  frightened  voice  of 
one  who  has  seen  a  ghost : 

"  Do  you  know  who  that  was?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  That  was  Oscar  Stephenson." 

"  Margret  Neilson,  you  are  mad.  Oscar  Stephenson  is 
dead." 

"  Then  he  came  to  life  again.  That  is  Oscar  Stephen- 
son as  sure  as  I'm  a  living  woman !  " 


vn 

Christian  Christiansson  left  the  Factor's  house  glowing 
with  excitement.  Oh,  for  the  hour  when  he  could  lay  aside 
the  armor  of  duplicity !  When  he  could  say  to  his  own  peo- 
ple, "  I  am  Oscar  Stephenson.  Let  the  world  think  me 
Christian  Christiansson,  but  at  least  you  must  know  me  for 
who  I  am." 

It  was  necessary  and  inevitable  that  he  should  reveal  him- 
self to  his  own  family !  How  else  could  he  carry  out  the  plan 
he  had  formed  of  buying  the  farm  at  the  auction  to-morrow 
morning  and  giving  it  back  to  his  brother  ?  And  how,  except 
by  right  of  blood,  by  right  of  parentage,  could  he  claim 
the  child  and  take  her  away  with  him  when  he  returned  to 
England  ? 

In  this  mood  he  went  back  to  Government  House  and 
announced  his  intention  of  going  on  to  Thingvellir. 

"  Thingvellir!  "  said  the  Minister.  "  It's  only  natural,  sir, 
that  you  should  wish  to  see  our  great  historic  meeting-place, 
the  scene  of  so  many  of  our  Sagas.  But  why  go  there  to-day  ? 
It  isn't  every  day  the  old  town  is  alive,  but  this  is  the  last  of 
the  year,  you  know,  and  before  midnight  we  shall  have  many 
interesting  ceremonies.  Why  not  stay  until  to-morrow,  and 
then  I  shall  be  happy  to  go  with  you  ? " 

"  I  have  a  particular  reason  for  wishing  to  go  to-day,"  said 
Christian  Christiansson. 

"  That's  a  pity,  and  our  townspeople  will  be  wofully  disap- 
pointed.    To  tell  you  the  truth,  I've  done  nothing  all  morn- 


THE    TRODIGAL    SON  333 

ing  but  receive  deputations  asking  me  to  offer  you  a  public 
banquet.  Every  class  of  the  community  is  excited,  and  the 
students  are  talking  of  a  torchlight  procession." 

"  That  settles  it,  Mr.  Finsen,  I  must  go  now  in  any  case." 

"  You  are  too  modest,  Mr.  Christiansson.  But  perhaps  you 
don't  know  the  way.  And  then  look  at  the  clouds — a  snow- 
storm is  coming." 

"  I  know  every  inch  of  the  way,  and  the  snowstorm,  if  it 
is  not  too  heavy,  will  only  add  to  my  pleasure." 

"  If  it  is  not  too  heavy !  Believe  me,  there's  nothing  in  the 
world  more  miserable  than  being  caught  in  a  blinding  snow- 
storm on  the  Moss  Fell  Heath.  But  if  you  must  you  must, 
sir,  and  if  you  have  a  particular  reason  for  going  it  is  not 
for  me  to  keep  you  back." 

"  It  is  late,  Mr.  Finsen,  and  the  days  are  short — I  must  get 
off  immediately." 

"  I'll  send  for  ponies  without  delay,  sir.  You'll  want  two — 
one  for  yourself,  the  other  for  your  pony-boy.  You'll  be  back 
in  a  few  days,  I  trust,  so  you'll  leave  your  baggage  behind 
you." 

The  pony-boy  with  the  ponies  came  round  at  noon,  and  by 
that  time,  the  report  of  Christiansson's  departure  having 
passed  through  the  town,  a  number  of  the  townspeople  had 
gathered  at  the  gate  to  see  him  off.  Among  them  were  Pals- 
son  the  banker,  Oddsson  the  merchant,  Zimsen  the  captain, 
Jonsson  the  chairman  of  the  Town  Board,  and  (most  surpris- 
ing of  all)  the  Factor. 

There  was  a  tingling  atmosphere  of  unsatisfied  curiosity  in 
the  little  crowd,  for  rumor  of  the  two  hundred  thousand 
crowns  had  passed  from  lip  to  lip,  and  people  were  asking 
who  the  stranger  was,  who  his  father  had  been,  and  what  he 
could  want  with  so  much  money.  When  Christian  Chris- 
tiansson, in  his  long  blue  ulster  and  close-fitting  fur  cap, 
came  out  of  the  house,  and  parted  from  his  host  and  hostess 
at  the  porch,  he  seemed  to  be  in  high  spirits,  for  he  saluted 
*rv'er5^body  at  the  gate,  and  mentioned  most  of  the  company 
'by  name. 

This  intensified  the  curiosity,  and  amid  a  running  fire  of 
Dhaff  and  laughter  the  bolder  ones  began  to  probe  with 
s[uestions. 


334  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  You'll  put  up  at  the  Inn-farm  to-night,  Mr.  Christians- 
son?" 

"  No  doubt,  Mr.  Jonsson,  no  doubt." 

"But  there's  to  be  an  auction  there  in  the  morning,  you 
know — I  say  there's  to  be  an  auction  in  the  morning,  so  you'll 
be  turned  out  to-morrow," 

"  Unless,"  said  the  captain,  with  a  wink  in  his  weather  eye, 
"unless  Mr.  Christiansson  buys  up  the  old  place  and  turns 
farmer  and  innkeeper." 

"  And  why  not,  Captain  Zimsen,  why  not  ?  " 

"  Hard  work  early  and  late,  sir." 

"  Well,  no  man  ever  won  the  day  by  snoring." 

Christian  Christiansson  had  swung  to  the  saddle,  when  the 
Factor  came  up  to  him  with  his  rheumy  eyes  shining,  and 
said: 

"  Don't  be  surprised  if  I  follow  you  to  Thingvellir.  Life  is 
short,  and  before  I  die  I  have  something  to  say  to  Magnus 
Stephenson." 

"  We  talked  of  him  on  the  ship,  sir,  didn't  we — him  and  his 
rascally  young  brother  ? "  said  the  merchant. 

"  We  did,"  said  Christian  Christiansson,  and  then  at  the 
last  moment,  the  pony-boy  being  mounted,  and  everything 
ready,  a  spirit  of  recklessness  came  over  him,  and  he  added, 
"  But  you  made  one  mistake,  Mr.  Oddsson." 

"And  what  was  that,  Mr.  Christiansson?" 

"  You  said  Oscar  Stephenson  had  never  done  anything  in 
his  life,  except  putting  an  end  to  it,  but  he  did  one  thing 
once,  I  remember.  He  stood  for  parliament  when  I  was  at 
home,  and  gave  a  dreadful  drubbing  to  the  dunderhead  who 
opposed  him.     Good-bye !  " 

When  he  was  gone  it  was  the  same  is  if  a  spell  had  been 
broken.  Something  in  his  last  word,  something  in  his  laugh, 
and  something  in  the  lifting  of  his  cap  as  he  cantered  up  the 
road,  had  struck  a  vague  consciousness  of  his  identity  into 
the  gossips  at  the  gate.  For  a  moment  they  stared  into  each 
other's  face  in  blank  bewilderment  and  then  the  merchant 
said: 

"  Who  the  deuce  can  he  be  then  ?  " 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  who  my  sister  says  he  is  ? "  said  the 
Factor. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  335 

"Who?" 

"  Oscar  Stephenson  himself." 

It  fell  in  their  midst  like  a  thunderbolt. 

"  Well,  that  would  explain  something, — I  say  that  would 
explain  something,"  said  the  banker,  and  he  told  the  story  of 
Magnus  Stephenson's  interest. 

Within  half-an-hour  the  word  had  gone  through  the  town 
with  the  r\ish  and  rattle  of  the  holme  wind.  Christian  Chris- 
tiansson  was  Oscar  Stephenson!  Almost  in  as  many  words 
he  had  said  so  himself,  and  there  could  not  be  a  doubt 
about  it! 

That  night  at  the  Artisans'  Institute  there  were  a  hundred 
stories  of  Oscar  Stephenson.  Some  of  them  were  good,  and 
they  were  told  with  tears;  but  some  were  bad,  yet  they  were 
received  with  peals  of  laughter.  In  the  smoking-room  of  the 
hotel  the  students  sang  Oscar's  songs  until  the  lamps  went 
out,  and  then  they  bellowed  them  through  the  darkness  in  a 
dozen  different  keys,  while  the  windows  rattled  with  the 
vibration  of  their  lusty  voices. 

Meantime  a  group  of  sedater  citizens  had  taken  their  sur- 
mise to  the  Minister,  and  he  had  said  with  his  shy  smile : 

"  We  cannot  uncover  his  nakedness,  you  know,  but  we  can 
go  on  with  the  arrangements  for  the  banquet,  and  so  tempt 
him  to  reveal  himself." 

They  went  on  with  them  immediately.  The  banquet  was 
to  be  at  the  Templars'  Hall  the  night  after  the  stranger's 
return  to  Reykjavik.  The  Minister  was  to  propose,  "  Chris- 
tian Christiansson,  Iceland's  favorite  son  and  heir !  "  Then 
the  students  were  to  sing  Oscar  Stephenson's  patriotic 
hymn,  "  Isaf old !  my  Isaf old !  great  land  of  frost  and  fire." 
And  after  the  guest  had  spoken  the  cathedral  choir  were  to 
give  Christian  Christiansson's  stirring  anthem,  "  Who  shall 
ascend  into  the  hill  of  the  Lord,  who  shall  rise  up  in  His  holy 
place?  Even  he  who  has  clean  hands  and  a  pure  heart,  and 
hath  not  lifted  up  his  mind  with  vanity !  " 

Everything  else  was  forgotten!  The  odium  attaching  for 
ten  years  to  Oscar  Stephenson's  name  was  gone!  The  dis- 
honor which  Death  itself  could  not  kill  had  disappeared  be- 
fore the  blinding  light  of  genius,  the  glittering  shrine  of 
success ! 


'336  THE    TEODIGAL    SON 


vm 

MEANTBfE  the  man  himself  was  on  his  way  to  Thingvellir. 
The  clouds  might  be  low,  but  his  heart  was  high;  the  sea 
might  break  on  the  black  beach  with  a  monotonous  moan,  but 
his  whole  being  sang  a  song  of  hope.  A  wild  activity  of 
thoughts,  imagination,  feelings,  and  impulses  possessed  him, 
and  for  the  first  time  since  he  returned  to  Iceland  he  was 
entirely  happy. 

God  had  permitted  him  to  come  in  time  to  save  his  people 
from  being  made  houseless  and  homeless!  He  had  sinned 
and  he  had  suffered,  but  the  sacred  duty  of  atonement  was 
not  to  be  denied  him !  The  Inn-farm,  which  had  been  mort- 
gaged to  save  him  from  the  grip  of  the  law,  was  to  be  given 
back  unburdened  to  his  brother!  Two  hundred  thousand 
crowns  w^ere  in  his  breast  pocket,  and  they  were  to  buy  the 
old  place  at  the  auction  to-morrow  morning ! 

As  he  cantered  up  the  road  that  led  out  of  the  town  his 
soul  careered  like  a  leaf  in  autumn  under  a  bottom  wind  o£ 
hope  and  joy.  He  saw  himself  arriving  at  the  farm  in  the 
dusk  of  the  evening  and  meeting  his  mother  and  Magnus  and 
his  daughter  Elin.  He  heard  himself  saying,  "  Mother,  don't 
you  know  me?  I  am  Oscar,  and  I  have  come  back  to  make 
amends."  And  next  day,  when  the  auction  would  be  over, 
the  Sheriff  gone  and  everybody  crying  for  happiness,  he  saw 
himself  taking  Elin  between  his  knees — Elin  with  the  eyes  of 
Thora,  yet  with  his  own  face  looking  at  him  as  in  a  glass — 
and  saying,  "  You  are  to  come  with  me  now,  my  dearest,  and 
if  you  have  gone  short  of  anything  as  a  child  I  will  make  it 
up  to  you  as  a  woman !  " 

The  pony-boy  caught  the  contagion  of  his  high  spirits,  and 
as  they  cantered  along  he  sang  snatches  of  the  Elf -song : 

"Dance  by  night  and  dance  by  day, 
Life  and  time  will  pass  away, 
Love  alone  will  last  alway." 

He  was  a  tall  lad  of  eighteen  who  must  have  resembled  his 
mother,  for  he  had  the  pink  and  white  face  of  a  girl.    They 


^  THE    PKODIGAL    SON  337 

^ad  passed  the  hot  springs  and  the  Ellida  river,  and  risen  to 
the  heights  of  the  first  hill  on  their  journey  before  the  sun- 
shine of  the  boy's  spirits  began  to  be  overcast.  Then  as  they 
rested  their  ponies  and  tightened  the  girths,  he  said  in  a 
frightened  whisper : 

"  Do  you  hear  it,  sir?  " 

"  Hear  what  ?  "  said  Christian  Christiansson. 

"  The  Peak,"  said  the  boy,  pointing  to  a  rock  of  rugged 
outline  that  stood  on  the  topmost  line  of  the  mountain  to 
their  right,  with  a  dark  cloud,  that  was  like  a  great  monster 
of  the  air,  poised  above  it. 

"  What  about  it,  my  boy  ?  " 

"  The  storm  and  the  Peak  are  friends,  sir,  for  they  always 
talk  together  before  the  wind  comes  down.  When  people 
hear  them  talking  they  tremble,  because  they  know  the  storm 
is  coming." 

"  Let  us  get  on  then,"  said  Christian  Christiansson, 

In  half-an-hour  they  had  come  to  the  bleak  and  barren 
country  of  the  Red  Hill,  the  Red  Lake,  and  the  Deep  Tarn 
with  its  dark  waters  and  gloomy  shore,  and  by  that  time  the 
great  cloud  which  had  been  poised  above  the  Peak  was  broken 
into  many  parts,  and  each  part  seemed  to  be  fighting  the 
others  in  the  sky,  for  there  were  volleys  of  sound  like  thunder. 

"  Hadn't  we  better  stop  at  the  farm  at  Middale,  sir? "  said 
the  boy. 

But  Christian  Christiansson  thought  of  his  mother,  of 
Magnus,  of  Elin,  and  of  the  auction  to-morrow  morning,  and 
he  determined  to  push  on. 

They  were  on  the  edge  of  the  Moss  Fell  Heath  when  the 
snow  began  to  fall.  It  fell  at  first  in  big  flakes  like  dead 
buttei-flies,  for  there  was  yet  no  wind  on  the  ground,  although 
the  clouds  were  still  scurrying  across  the  sky  and  the  noise 
overhead  was  deafening. 

Christian  Christiansson  remembered  what  the  Minister  had 
said,  that  of  all  the  miseries  of  life  the  worst  was  to  be  caught 
in  a  snowstorm  on  this  desolate  moor,  and  for  one  moment  he 
asked  himself  if  he  ought  not  to  go  back  to  Middale  and  wait 
there  until  the  storm  had  passed.  But  at  the  next  instant  he 
told  himself  that  the  devilish  powers  which  had  dogged  his 
steps  since  he  landed  in  Iceland  were  trying  to  keep  him  back 


338  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

from  the  good  work  he  meant  to  do,  so  he  must  go  on  in 
any  case. 

"  You're  not  afraid,  my  lad?  " 

"  Not  to  say  afraid,"  faltered  the  boy. 

"  Let  us  gallop,  then." 

The  Heath  itself  when  they  came  to  it  was  a  white  wilder- 
ness within  the  embracement  of  black  rocks  and  mountains. 
They  were  only  able  to  find  the  road  by  following  the  beacons, 
which  were  like  white-headed  sentinels  in  single  file,  with 
their  backs  to  the  storm,  going  on  and  on  over  the  wide 
waste. 

The  sense  of  desolation  was  appalling,  and  a  voice  seemed 
to  say,  "  Go  back  while  there  is  time  to  do  so."  But  again 
Christian  Christiansson  thought  of  his  mother,  of  Magnus, 
of  Eliu,  and  of  the  auction  to-morrow  morning,  and  he  urged 
his  horse  through  the  deepening  snow. 

They  had  not  gone  much  farther  when  the  wind  came  'down 
and  hurled  itself  in  their  faces.  The  snowflakes  were  pelted 
and  slung  at  them  like  splinters  of  flint.  It  seemed  as  if 
every  flake  would  cut  through  their  skin.  Then  the  cold  be- 
came intense.  Ice  gathered  over  their  eyes,  and  at  every 
other  minute  they  had  to  stop  to  break  it  away. 

Finally  the  darkness  descended  upon  them,  the  deadly,  im- 
placable darkness  of  the  wind  and  snow.  A  wild  torrent  of 
w^hirling  snowflakes  swept  over  the  moor  and  concealed  them 
from  each  other.  It  became  so  dark  that  they  could  only  see 
a  few  yards  on  either  side,  and  they  had  to  cry  out  at  inter- 
vals in  order  to  keep  together. 

They  were  now  in  the  mighty  grip  of  the  storm  and  could 
no  longer  think  of  going  back.  The  wind  hissed  and  howled 
and  wept ;  the  snow  pelted  and  cut.  There  was  no  shelter  of 
Took  or  tree  or  bush  on  any  side;  there  was  nothing  about  or 
above  them  but  the  wide  wilderness  and  the  thickening  dark- 
ness. 

Christian  Christiansson  was  sorry  for  the  boy,  but  thus  far 
his  own  spirits  had  risen  with  every  fresh  phase  of  the  tem- 
pest. He  had  a  sense  of  fighting  a  fierce  duel  with  the  ele- 
ments. At  the  other  end  of  his  journey  were  his  mother  and 
Magnus  and  Elin,  and  if  he  could  reach  them  before  morning 
he  would  be  able  to  succor  and  save  them.    It  was  a  race  as 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  339 

for  life,  for  the  lives  of  his  nearest  and  dearest,  against  the 
■wild  wantonness  of  elemental  powers.  Nature  herself,  with 
more  than  her  usual  heartlessness  toward  man,  was  at  dev- 
ilish war  with  his  effort  to  save  his  people.  But  he  would 
conquer  her!  Let  it  snow  or  blow  or  hail  or  thunder,  he 
would  reach  home  in  time  for  the  auction! 

The  ponies  were  the  first  to  fail.  The  one  that  Christian 
Christiansson  rode  was  a  strong  mare  of  mature  age,  but  the 
boy's  was  a  young  one,  newly  broken,  and  it  seemed  to  be 
suffocating  in  the  snow  and  the  wind.  After  a  time  it  turned 
its  head  from  the  storm  and  refused  to  go  forward,  and  then 
the  boy  had  to  alight  and  walk  in  front  of  it  and  tug  it 
along  by  the  bridle.  In  a  little  while  it  stopped  altogether 
and  slid  down  on  its  side,  and  could  with  difficulty  be  raised 
to  its  feet  again. 

"  He's  only  four,  and  this  is  his  first  journey,"  said  the  boy 
in  a  whimpering  tone,  as  he  laid  the  lash  on  the  pony's  back. 

Then  the  boy  himself  began  to  give  in.  He  wore  bag 
gloves  (with  two  thumbs  but  no  fingers),  and  in  tugging  at 
the  bridle  he  lost  one  of  them.  As  a  consequence  his  bare 
hand  got  frost-bitten  and  was  soon  quite  powerless.  In  walk- 
ing before  the  horse  his  clothes  had  frozen  stiff,  and  he  was 
hardly  able  to  put  one  foot  before  the  other.  His  voice  be- 
came weaker  and  his  speech  more  broken,  and  when  his  com- 
panion called  back  to  him  he  could  scarcely  send  forward  his 
reply.    At  last  in  a  faint  voice  he  cried : 

"  Come  and  fetch  me,  sir — I  have  no  strength  left." 

A  little  later  he  became  delirious,  talked  of  his  mother, 
and  tried  to  strip  off  his  clothes  as  if  he  were  going  to  bed. 

Christian  Christiansson  experienced  deep  anguish  of  mind 
at  the  thought  of  the  sufferings  he  had  inflicted  upon  the  lad, 
but  he  lifted  him  to  the  saddle  with  his  back  to  the  horse's 
head,  and  comforted  him  as  well  as  he  could  in  his  awful 
situation. 

"  Courage,  my  boy,  courage !  The  House  of  Rest  cannot 
be  far  off.    We'll  shelter  there.    The  storm  will  pass." 

A  vision  of  the  little  house  of  basaltic  rocks,  which  he  had 
entered  with  Helga,  had  been  floating  through  his  mind  like 
a  dream  of  the  Calenture.  How  long  it  took  him  to  get 
there  and  with  what  desperate  exertions  he  never  knew,  but 


340  THE    TEODIGAL    SON 

walking  in  front  of  the  young  pony  and  leading  the  mare 
beside  him,  he  reached  the  little  house  at  last. 

As  soon  as  they  were  under  cover,  the  boy  dropped  to  his 
knees,  and,  with  a  gibbering  accent,  as  if  speaking  through 
half-frozen  lips,  he  began  to  repeat  the  Creed,  "  I  believe  in 
God  the  Father  Almighty."  He  thought  he  was  saying  his 
prayers. 

The  House  of  Rest  was  badly  provided,  but  it  had  hay  for 
the  horses,  and  they  began  to  munch  it  immediately.  There 
was  no  lamp,  and  when  the  door  was  shut  to  keep  out  the 
driving  snow,  the  place  was  in  pitch  darkness. 

After  a  while  the  air  became  warm  with  the  breath  of  the 
ponies,  and  the  men's  clothes  melted.  This  made  them  very 
cold,  and  they  had  to  beat  their  arms  under  their  armpits  to 
keep  their  bodies  from  shivering  and  their  teeth  from  chatter- 
ing. Then  the  atmosphere  grew  hot,  for  the  ponies  began 
to  sweat,  and  the  boy  stripped  off  his  outer  garments,  and  lay 
down  with  the  young  horse,  boy  and  horse  side  by  side,  as  if 
they  had  been  human  companions. 

Christian  Christiansson  threw  himself  upon  the  wooden 
platform  prepared  for  travelers,  and  listened  to  the  storm 
outside.  The  wind  was  howling  and  hissing  around  the  cor- 
ners of  the  house,  and  he  had  the  sense  of  the  snow  becoming 
deeper  and  deeper  about  it.  If  the  storm  continued  the  little 
place  might  be  buried  before  long,  and  then  it  would  be  diffi- 
cult or  impossible  to  cut  a  way  out. 

His  heart  fell  low.  He  began  to  feel  appalled  by  the  awful- 
ness  of  his  position.  The  devilish  elements  were  beating  him. 
He  was  only  half  way  on  his  journey,  and  if  he  could  not 
make  the  rest  of  it  before  morning,  his  mother  and  Magnus 
and  little  Elin  would  be  homeless.  Yet  the  storm  showed  no 
sign  of  abating ;  the  ponies  were  spent,  the  boy  was  done,  and 
it  seemed  impossible  to  go  on. 

Suddenly  a  new  thought  came  to  him  and  he  raised  himself 
and  cried: 

"  My  boy,  my  boy !  do  you  know  the  road  from  Borg  to 
Thingvellir?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  boy's  drowsy  voice  in  the  darkness. 

"  What  sort  of  road  is  it  ?  " 

"  Awful,  sir." 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  341 

"Worse  than  this?" 

"  Ten  times  worse — over  the  Hengel  mountain  and  past 
the  boiling  pits,  sir." 

"  Thank  God !  "  said  Christian  Christiansson,  and  he  lay- 
down  again  with  content,  telling  himself  that  the  same  storm 
that  was  keeping  him  back  must  keep  back  the  Sheriff,  and 
therefore  there  could  be  no  auction  to-morrow  morning. 

The  storm  still  hissed  and  howled  and  wept  in  the  wild 
wilderness  outside,  but  the  tempest  had  now  lost  its  terrors. 
The  boy  and  the  young  pony  had  fallen  asleep  and  were 
breathing  heavily,  the  mare  was  munching  the  last  of  the 
hay,  and  Christian  Christiansson,  with  his  heart  at  ease  and 
a  sense  of  safety,  had  settled  himself  for  the  night  and  was 
dropping  off  into  unconsciousness  when  there  came  a  thud 
on  the  roof  of  the  little  house. 

He  started  up  and  listened,  and  again  he  heard  the  thud- 
thud  over  his  head.  The  mare  also  heard  the  strange  sounds, 
and  ceasing  to  eat  she  came  across  to  him,  as  if  in  fear,  and 
laid  her  head  upon  his  legs.  It  was  not  at  first  that  he 
realized  that  the  sounds  were  human  footsteps  and  that  some- 
body was  walking  on  the  roof,  but  as  soon  as  he  did  so  he 
cried  out  to  know  who  was  there,  and  a  voice  that  was  like  a 
voice  out  of  a  grave  answered,  "  Let  me  in." 

He  removed  the  saddles  with  which  he  had  barricaded  the 
door  and  opened  it.  There  was  then  another  doorway  of  the 
snow  that  had  fallen  since  he  entered,  but  in  a  little  while  he 
had  cut  it  away  with  the  spade  that  hung  on  the  wall  for  that 
purpose.  At  the  next  moment  a  man  crossed  the  threshold — 
a  man  and  a  horse. 

IX 

"  Oh,  God !  What  a  night,"  said  the  stranger.  He  seemed 
to  be  scared  and  awe-stricken  by  the  uproar  he  had  come 
out  of. 

When  Christian  Christiansson  had  closed  and  barricaded 
the  door  afresh  the  darkness  seemed  denser  than  ever. 

"  Have  you  any  matches  ?  "  he  asked. 

"'J^o — yes — that  is  to  say,  J7m  afraid  they're  damp,"  said 
the  stranger.    He  struck  one  and  it  spluttered  out. 


342  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  Take  care  then.  A  boy  is  lying  asleep  on  the  floor. 
Bring  your  horse  this  way." 

"  Thanks !  How  lucky  I  heard  you !  I  had  lost  the  road, 
and  was  wondering  what  hollow  ground  I  was  walking  on 
when  you  shouted  from  below.  It  nearly  frightened  my 
life  out." 

It  was  a  young  voice;  the  stranger  was  clearly  a  young 
man,  probably  a  young  farmer.  They  talked  together  in 
the  darkness,  neither  being  able  to  see  the  other's  face. 

"  Who  are  you,  my  lad?  "  asked  Christian  Christiansson. 

"  I  am  Eric  Arnasson.  I  come  from  Thingvellir.  Who 
are  you,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  am  a  traveler,  and  I'm  on  my  way  there." 

"  Going  to  the  sale,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  I  have  just  come  from  the  house  you  are  bound 
for." 

"Are  you  a  farm-servant  at  the  Inn-farm?" 

"  Used  to  be,  but  the  hands  are  all  gone  now.  I  was  the 
last  to  leave,  sir." 

"  Where  are  Gudrun  and  Jon  Vidalin  ?  " 

"  Farming  Korastead  these  ten  years,  sir." 

"And  Asher?" 

"  He  has  gone  too.  We  thinned  down  fast  when  the 
master  got  into  trouble.  I  was  with  him  from  the  time  I 
was  a  little  chap,  but  he  paid  me  off  this  afternoon." 

"Where's  old  Maria?" 

"  Dead  long  ago." 

"  Is  there  nobody  left  then  ?  " 

"  Nobody  but  the  master  and  his  old  mother  and  his  young 
daughter." 

"Daughter?" 

"  Well,  everybody  calls  her  so,  but  she's  only  his  niece." 

"  Is  there  nobody  else  in  the  house  to-night  ?  " 

"  Not  a  soul  that  I  know  of.  And  iliey  will  not  be  there 
another  night,  I  suppose." 

"  But  the  sale  can  not  take  place  to-morrow,  my  lad.  The 
Sheriff  will  never  be  able  to  get  there  to-day.  He  has  to 
come  from  Borg,  and  the  road  over  the  mountain  is  even 
\yilder  than  this." 


THE   PRODIGAL    SON  343 

"The  Sheriff  is  there  now,  sir." 

"Now?" 

"  I  left  him  in  the  kitchen  when  I  came  away,  making 
a  list  of  the  house  property,  and  he  was  to  sleep  at  the 
Parsonage." 

Christian  Christiansson's  hair  seemed  to  rise  from  his  head. 
There  was  no  escape  from  the  terrible  journey.  He  must  go 
on  in  spite  of  the  storm.  His  limbs  felt  like  lead,  and  when 
he  tried  to  move  them  he  covdd  only  do  so  with  a  tremendous 
effort.  But  he  shook  off  his  torpor  and  began  to  saddle  his 
mare. 

"  What  do  you  think  is  the  time,  my  lad  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  my  watch  has  stopped.  And  then  I  have 
no  light  either.  It  must  be  seven  o'clock  at  least.  But  you're 
not  thinking  of  going  on  to-night,  sir?" 

"  I  must." 

"  You'll  never  get  to  Thingvellir,  sir.  It  was  bad  enough 
for  me  with  my  back  to  the  storm,  but  it  will  be  ten  times 
worse  for  you  with  your  face  to  it.  You'll  be  lost.  Your 
friends  will  see  no  more  of  you." 

"Good  night!  Take  the  boy  back  to  Reykjavik  in  the 
morning." 

Out  on  the  snowfield  again  Christian  Christiansson  was 
conscious  of  nothing  but  a  headlong  impulse  to  go  on.  The 
saddle  was  damp,  and  he  had  a  sensation  of  riding  in  cold 
water;  the  snow  was  deeper  than  before,  and  sometimes  his 
horse  stumbled  up  to  its  girths;  the  darkness  was  now  the 
darkness  of  night,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  he  could 
follow  the  line  of  the  beacons;  the  wind  hurled  itself  against 
his  body,  the  snow  slung  itself  against  his  face,  but  still  he 
strained  along,  for  a  new  and  inspiring  thought  had  come  to 
him. 

The  Almighty  was  fighting  on  his  side  in  his  fierce  war  with 
the  elements !  The  devilish  powers  of  Nature  had  been  trying 
to  keep  him  back  from  saving  his  people,  and  when  he  reached 
the  House  of  Rest  they  had  lulled  him  into  a  false  repose,  but 
God  had  sent  the  farm-servant  to  warn  him  that  his  dear  ones 
were  still  in  danger,  and  that  if  he  stayed  there  until  morning 
he  would  arrive  at  his  journey's  end  too  late!  Thinking  so, 
his  heart  grew  strong,  for  he  felt  himself  in  the  immediate 
presence  of  Him  who  was  greater  than  the  greatest  tempest. 


344  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

But  after  some  two  hours  had  passed  the  sacred  fire  of  tkis 
theory  began  to  fail  him.  He  was  growing  faint,  and  the 
beatings  of  his  heart  were  suffocating ;  he  was  also  losing  his 
way  in  the  deepening  snow,  and  when  his  mare  stumbled  into 
the  drifts  he  was  scarcely  strong  enough  to  drag  her  out  of 
them.  Then,  before  he  was  aware  of  it,  the  voices  of  Nature 
were  speaking  to  him  again. 

"  Why  did  you  leave  the  House  of  Rest  ?  The  Sheriff  may 
be  at  the  farm,  but  no  buyers  can  get  there  to-night,  and 
without  people  to  bid  there  can  be  no  auction." 

Just  as  this  thought  came  to  him  he  saw  a  red  speck  gleam- 
ing through  the  darkness,  and  he  turned  his  horse's  head  in 
the  direct-ion  of  the  light.  It  proved  to  be  in  the  window  of 
a  farm-house,  and  finding  the  door  he  shouted,  and  presently 
a  man  came  out  to  him. 

"  I've  lost  my  way,"  he  cried,  over  the  wailing  of  the  wind. 
"  Tell  me,  please,  what  place  this  is  ? " 

"  This  is  Korastead,"  the  man  cried  back,  and  then  a 
woman  came  into  the  hall-way  and  stood  behind  him.  The 
man  was  Jon  Vidalin  and  the  woman  was  Gudrun,  but 
neither  of  them  knew  him. 

"  Where  were  you  going,  sir  ?  "  said  Jon. 

"  To  the  auction  at  Thingvellir." 

"  You  are  not  so  far  out  of  your  road,  then.  Bear  to  the 
right  until  you  cross  the  river,  and  then  follow  the  stones 
tmtil  you  come  to  the  Chasm." 

Christian  Christiansson  hesitated.  "I'm  tired,  having  rid- 
den from  Reykjavik,  and  it  doesn't  seem  much  good  going 
farther.  Nobody  else  will  be  fool  enough  to  travel  in  weather 
like  this,  and  without  people  to  bid  there  can  be  no  auction. 
So  if  you  can  give  me  shelter  and  a  shake-down " 

"  You  are  welcome  to  the  shelter,  sir,  but  if  you  want  the 
place  you  had  better  go  on  and  get  there." 

"Why  so?" 

"  Because  it's  a  Sheriff's  sale,  and  he'll  sell  in  any  case." 

"  How  can  he  sell  if  there's  nobody  to  buy  ? " 

"  He'll  bid  for  somebody  himself,  sii*,  and  we  all  know  who 
that  is." 

"Who?" 

"  Somebody  at  Government  House  who  has  wanted  the 
farm  these  fifteen  years." 


THE    PRODIG/iL    SON  345 

"  So  you  think  the  Sheriff  will  hold  the  auction  to-morrow 
morning  whether  anybody  is  there  or  not  ? " 

"  Sure  to,  sir.  The  fewer  there  are  to  bid  the  better  he'll 
be  pleased,  and  the  bigger  the  Minister's  bargain." 

"  I  must  go  on  then,  I  suppose,"  said  Christian  Chris- 
tiansson. 

"  Come  in  and  melt  yourself  first,"  said  Jon.  "  The  wind 
is  going  down — it  will  be  quiet  presently." 

A  few  minutes  later  Christian  Christiansson  was  drink  injj 
hot  coffee  in  the  elt-house,  while  Jon  and  Gudrun  talked  of 
the  family  at  the  Inn-farm. 

"  We  were  servants  with  the  family  for  ten  years,  so  we- 
know  them  well,  sir,"  said  Jon. 

"  Poor  old  Anna !  "  said  Gudrun.  "  She  would  be  welcome 
to  anything  I  have,  but  with  the  boys  growing  up  we  haven't 
a  bed  to  spare  in  the  badstofa." 

"  There's  an  adopted  daughter,  isn't  there  ? " 

"  There  is,  sir,  and  anybody  would  be  glad  to  have  her  for 
a  helper,  but  the  master  won't  hear  of  letting  her  go.  '  Elin 
shall  be  servant  to  nobody,'  he  says." 

"  It  isn't  Magnus  Stephenson's  fault  if  misfortune  has 
overtaken  him,"  said  Jon.  "  He  has  the  strength  of  Samson- 
and  has  done  the  work  of  six  men." 

"  How  does  he  bear  his  troubles  ?  " 

*'  Badly,"  said  Gudrun.  "  He  never  goes  to  church  now  or 
reads  the  prayers  at  home  either." 

"  Yes,"  said  Jon,  "  he  has  lost  his  religion,  poor  fellow,  and 
■when  a  man  loses  that  he  loses  everything,  you  know." 

"  People  are  afraid  of  him,"  said  Gudrun.  "  He  looks  like 
a  man  with  no  luck,  and  he  is  always  beating  his  arms  about 
him  and  driving  away  the  good  spirits  that  walk  by  a  man's 
side." 

"  And  what  do  people  say  is  the  cause  of  the  change  in 
him?" 

"  The  Bank  and  bad  times,"  said  Jon. 

"  And  a  bad  brother,"  said  Gudi-un.  "His  brother  is  dead 
and  the  old  mistress  has  made  a  saint  of  him,  but  she  darea't 
mention  his  name  before  Magnus,  or  he  gets  up  and  goes  out 
of  the  house." 

"  Does  he  hate  him  so  much  then  ?  " 
23 


346  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  There  was  a  time  when  I  believe  in  my  heart  he  would 
have  killed  him,"  said  Jon. 

Christian  Christiansson  started  up  and  prepared  to  go  on 
to  Thingvellir,  although  his  half-frozen  limbs  would  scarcely 
cross  the  saddle  or  his  swollen  fingers  hold  the  reins.  Again 
his  heart  had  fallen  low,  and  the  hope  with  which  he  had 
begun  his  journey — the  hope  of  a  joyful  reunion  at  the  end 
of  it — was  now  gone. 

The  intensity  of  Magnus's  feeling  made  it  impossible  that 
be  should  reveal  himself  to  his  people.  If  he  rode  up  to  the 
door  and  said,  "  I  am  Oscar,  the  report  of  my  death  was 
false,  and  I  have  come  back  rich  and  prosperous,"  what  would 
Magnus  say  ?  He  would  say,  "  Your  father  is  dead,  your 
wife  is  in  her  grave,  your  mother  and  your  child  have  gone 
through  poverty  and  perhaps  want,  and  all  the  consequence 
of  your  transgressions — do  you  think  that  your  miserable 
money  will  make  amends  ?  "  And  then  his  brother  would  fling 
him  back  into  the  road. 

Not  to-night  could  he  make  himself  known — not  to-night  at 
all  events !  Perhaps  to-morrow,  when  the  sale  would  be  over 
and  the  Sheriff  gone,  and  he  had  smoothed  the  way  and  made 
sure  of  his  welcome!  But  now  he  must  go  to  the  Inn  like 
any  other  traveler  who  had  come  there  to  be  present  at  the 
auction  and  to  bid  for  the  estate. 

Seeing  his  course  clear  in  this  way,  his  heart  rose  again 
and  he  pushed  on  with  a  better  will.  The  storm  had  sub- 
sided, and  when  he  came  to  the  sudden  mouth  of  the  Al- 
managja  the  wind  dropped  altogether,  and  it  was  almost 
as  if  some  vast  volcano  in  the  sky  had  poured  its  lava  over 
the  earth  in  snow. 

The  Chasm  itself  was  full  of  memories — memories  of  the 
day  of  his  triumph,  the  day  of  his  disgrace — but  icicles  hung 
from  where  the  flags  of  the  nations  had  floated,  and  drifts 
of  snow,  like  mighty  mushrooms,  were  lying  in  the  holes 
where  the  tents  had  been.  He  remembered  the  witch  whc 
had  said  "  Beware  of  your  brother,"  and  he  thought  of  the 
white  face  that  had  broken  in  upon  the  dancing.  In  the 
breathless  calm  the  sky  came  out  and  it  spanned  the  brant 
walls  like  a  majestical  roof  studded  with  stars,  but  he  stum- 
bled in  the  darkness  on  to  the  frozen  surface  of  the  drowning 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  347 

pool,  and  almost  rode  up  to  the  spot  where  he  had  sat  with 
Helga. 

At  the  bridge  that  crossed  the  frozen  waterfall  he  caught 
his  first  sight  of  the  lighted  windows  of  the  Inn-farm,  and 
then  his  heart  seemed  to  stand  still.  His  mother,  his  brother, 
and  his  little  daughter  were  there,  and  he  had  been  ten  years 
preparing  to  join  them,  but  now  that  he  was  so  near,  he 
could  hardly  bring  himself  to  go  on. 

Would  his  mother  recognize  him — she  who  had  read  his 
features  first  and  known  him  from  the  cradle  up  ?  He  was 
afraid  she  would,  and  then,  in  the  tumult  of  his  tossing  heart, 
he  was  afraid  she  would  not.  Nobody  in  Iceland  had  known 
him  hitherto,  and  now  he  was  aware  that  he  was  less  like 
himself  than  ever,  for,  seeing  his  face  in  a  glass  as  he  came 
out  of  Korastead,  he  saw  that  his  lips  were  swollen  and  his 
eyes  bloodshot  with  the  heavy  labor  of  that  awful  day. 

He  had  crunched  through  the  broken  ice  of  the  river 
below  the  bridge  and  reached  the  silent  snow  of  the  pathway 
to  the  farm,  when  the  door  opened  and  two  men  came  out 
of  the  house.  "  The  Sheriff  and  the  Pastor,"  he  thought. 
He  drew  rein  and  they  did  not  hear  him,  but  when  they 
had  taken  the  path  to  the  Parsonage,  the  dogs  inside  began 
to  bark. 

The  palpitation  of  his  heart  was  almost  choking  him,  and 
it  would  have  taken  little  to  make  him  turn  about  and  fly. 
How  long  he  stood  there — whether  five  minutes  or  ten — 
he  never  rightly  knew.  A  hundred  thoughts,  more  wild  than 
the  whirling  snow,  were  tossing  within  his  brain.  But  think- 
ing at  length  that  Almighty  God  who  had  brought  him 
through  the  perils  of  that  fearful  day — defeating  the  designs 
of  the  devil  and  of  the  elements,  and  driving  him  before  His 
mighty  will  as  before  a  greater  hurricane — could  not  have 
led  him  there  at  last  to  any  end  save  a  good  one,  he  urged 
his  horse  to  the  foot  of  the  steps  and  raised  his  whip  to 
the  window. 


848  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 


Magnus  Stephenson  had  indeed  lost  his  religion.  For 
fifteen  years  he  had  believed  with  all  the  strength  of  his  soul 
that  everybody  in  this  life  was  treated  according  to  his  de- 
serts ;  that  if  you  did  right  you  were  rewarded  sooner  or  later, 
and  if  you  did  wrong  you  were  punished.  But  experience  of 
the  world  had  little  by  little,  and  year  by  year,  inflicted  upon 
his  profound  faith  in  the  rule  of  conscience  the  most  inex- 
plicable contradictions.  The  man  who  lived  a  good  life  was 
not  being  rewarded,  and  the  man  who  lived  an  evil  one  was 
not  being  punished.  What,  then,  was  there  left  to  believe? 
That  there  was  no  God  in  the  universe  at  all,  or  that  if  there 
were  a  God  He  did  nothing ! 

Magnus  Stephenson  had  tried  to  do  what  was  right.  He 
had  taken  up  the  burdens  which  others  laid  down  and  he  had 
struggled  on  with  a  strong  heart.  For  fifteen  years  he  had 
labored  like  a  slave,  and  though  his  arrears  of  debt  constantly 
accumulated,  he  had  never  allowed  himself  to  believe  that 
the  end  was  coming  on.  The  mortgage  was  monstrous,  the 
interest  was  exorbitant,  and  the  Bank  would  come  to  see 
that  more  than  he  got  out  of  the  land  and  stock  it  was  im- 
possible for  man  to  make! 

But  the  deed  of  execution  had  been  served  on  him  at 
length,  the  advertisements  of  the  sale  had  been  published,  and 
the  two  preliminary  auctions  had  been  held.  Then,  as  if  in  a 
moment,  the  man's  religion  had  disappeared  and  his  soul  had 
sent  up  that  sublime  if  blasphemous  cry,  which  since  the 
beginning  of  the  world  has  borne  to  heaven  the  lamentation 
and  protest  of  humanity  against  the  misery  of  man:  "I 
have  obeyed  Your  laws;  I  have  lived  a  good  life;  I  have 
assisted  the  poor  and  helped  the  oppressed;  I  have  shared 
my  bread  with  the  orphan  and  protected  the  widow — what 
have  You  done  for  me  ?  " 

In  the  grim  silence  which  follows  that  ghastly  question,  it 
is  more  than  a  man's  religion  that  disappears,  and  Magnus 
Stephenson's  belief  in  right  and  wrong,  his  faith  in  justice, 
in  conscience,  and  in  virtue  had  gone  down  together,  leaving 
nothing  but  the  fierce  convulsions  of  his  animal  nature. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  349 

From  the  moment  the  Sheriff  arrived  to  make  the  inventory- 
he  had  done  little  but  sit  in  the  hall  and  drink.  He  sat 
there  all  day  long,  with  his  coarse  snow-stockings  over  his 
boots,  his  sullen  face  to  the  stove,  his  hands  deep  in  his 
trouser  pockets,  his  broad  forehead  heavily  wrinkled  under 
the  rough  stubble  of  his  iron-grey  hair,  his  massive  jaw  rest- 
ing on  his  breast,  and  his  mighty  loins  making  the  chair 
creak  as  he  moved  and  turned. 

At  intei-vals  during  the  day  his  mother  tried  to  comfort 
him. 

"  Don't  be  too  downhearted,  Magnus,"  said  Anna.  "  The 
stars  shine  when  it  is  dark,  you  know." 

"  Isn't  it  dark  enough  yet  ? "  said  Magnus,  and  he  laughed 
bitterly  and  drank  again. 

At  intervals  Elin  came  to  him  also.  She  was  a  tall  girl 
now,  nearly  sixteen  years  of  age,  with  a  whisper  of  woman- 
hood in  her  face  and  form,  but  coming  in  her  short  blue  skirt 
and  buckled  shoes  she  would  slide  into  a  seat  on  Magnus's 
knee  and,  slipping  one  arm  about  his  neck,  put  the  other 
hand  on  his  hot  forehead,  and  try  to  soothe  him  in  her 
motherly  little  way. 

But  "  There,  there !  That  will  do.  Go  to  your  grand- 
mother.   I'm  tired,"  he  would  say. 

Early  in  the  day  he  had  been  tormented  by  thoughts  of  the 
travelers  who  might  come  from  a  distance  to  stay  over-night 
in  order  to  be  present  at  the  auction,  and  in  his  mind's  eye  he 
saw  the  Inn-farm  full  of  them,  with  their  indifferent  talk  and 
heartless  laughter,  and  himself  in  his  impotent  rage  itching 
with  a  desire  to  fling  them  into  the  road.  But  when  the 
storm  broke  his  fears  on  that  head  were  appeased,  and  while 
the  wind  and  snow  wailed  and  wept  about  the  house  he  sat 
for  hours  alone  in  a  gloomy  and  tragic  peace. 

Besides  the  Sheriff,  the  only  person  who  visited  the  house 
that  day  was  the  Pastor,  and  he  came  as  late  as  ten  at  night 
to  take  the  Sheriff  back  to  lodge  with  him.  By  that  time  all 
that  was  left  of  the  broken  household  had  gathered  in  the 
hall,  where  Magnus  still  sat  before  the  stove,  while  the 
Sheriff,  with  Anna  and  Elin,  stood  by  the  dresser  making  an 
end  of  the  inventory. 

"  Ugh !     What  a  night !  "  said  the  Pastor,  stamping  the 


350  THE    PEODIGAL    SON 

snow  off  his  stockings.  "  You're  not  likely  to  be  brought  out 
of  bed  by  travelers  on  a  night  like  this — that's  some  consola- 
tion, isn't  it  ?  " 

He  was  a  garrulous  old  man,  with  a  shallow  heart  and  a 
shallow  head,  who  chewed  the  cud  of  his  humdrum  livelihood 
with  content  on  his  stipend  of  fifty  pounds  a  year. 

"  So  this  is  to  be  your  last  night  in  the  old  home,  Anna ! 
What  a  pity !  Well,"  tapping  his  snuff-box,  "  naked  came  I 
out  of  my  mother's  womb,  and  naked  shall  I  return  thither! 
Blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord !" 

Magnus  moved  his  chair  impatiently  and  made  con- 
temptuous noises  in  his  throat. 

"  I've  known  the  old  house  through  all  its  days  of  joy  and 
sorrow  for  forty-five  years,  Anna.  Ever  since  your  poor 
father  that's  dead — I  buried  him  myself,  God  rest  his 
soul ! " 

"  God  rest  his  soul,"  said  Anna. 

"  Ever  since  the  day  he  gave  you  away  as  a  bride.  And  a 
nervous,  blushing,  tender-hearted  little  bride  you  were, 
too!" 

Again  Magnus  shuffled  in  his  chair  and  made  noises  in 
his  throat. 

"  I  remember  it  so  well  because  it  was  the  same  year  that 
your  father's  big  bam  was  burnt  down,  and  his  cousin  Jorg'cn 
was  found  dead  in  the  Chasm.  What  a  sensation  that  made ! 
What  inquiries!  What  examining  witnesses!  Your  prede- 
cessor had  something  on  his  hands  in  those  days,  Sheriff." 

The  Sheriff  muttered  some  commonplace  and  Magnus 
kicked  at  the  smouldering  wood  in  the  stove. 

"  Suspicion  actually  fell  upon  your  father,  you  remember, 
and  because  he  had  been  drinking  and  was  such  an  ungovern- 
able man  when  he  was  drunk " 

"  Oh,  for  the  Lord's  sake  let's  have  done  with  this,"  cried 
Magnus. 

"  Magnus  Stephenson,"  protested  the  Pastor,  "  if  we  are  in 
trouble  let  us  behave  like  God's  rational  creatures " 

"  Rational  hell !  "  growled  Magnus,  whereupon  the  Sheriff, 
to  avoid  further  friction,  closed  his  book  with  a  bang,  saying 
he  had  finished  and  was  ready  to  go. 

Magnus  sat  quiet  while  the  Sheriff — a  sharp-featured  man 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  351 

with  the  eyes  of  a  ferret — put  on  his  snow-shoes  and  cloak, 
and  then  with  a  tremor  in  his  voice  and  a  somber  fire  in  his 
eyes  he  turned  and  said: 

"  Is  it  all  over,  sir?  " 

"Yes;  it  was  a  long  job,  but  it's  over  at  last,"  said  the 
Sheriff. 

"  I  mean,"  said  Magnus,  "  is  it  certain  that  the  auction 
must  take  place  ?  " 

"  Quite  certain.  There  has  never  been  any  doubt  of  it  that 
I  know  of." 

"  Look  here,  sir,"  said  Magnus,  heaving  up  to  his  feet.  "  A 
Sheriff  can  do  a  good  deal  if  he  cares  to  use  his  influence. 
Give  me  another  chance,  and  you  shall  have  everything  I  owe. 
I've  had  five  bad  years  in  succession — no  wonder  I  fell  into 
arrears.  Last  spring  I  lost  forty  lambs  in  a  single  night,  and 
next  morning  two  heifers  and  a  calf.  The  floods  came  in  the 
autumn,  too.  And  half  my  hay  was  swept  into  the  lake.  But 
weather  like  that  can't  last  forever.  We  are  sure  to  have  a 
run  of  good  years  next.  Give  me  four  years  more,  sir — and 
you  shall  see  what  I  can  do." 

"  The  thing  is  past  praying  for,"  said  the  Sheriff. 

"Don't  say  that,  sir.  Listen!  My  people  have  farmed 
this  place  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  years,  and  a  man  doesn't 
like  to  be  the  one  to  lose  it.  My  o\vn  flesh  and  blood  are  in 
the  land  too — the  strength  of  my  muscles  and  the  sweat  of 
my  brow.     Give  me  three  years  more,  sir — just  three." 

"  Impossible !  "   said  the   Sheriff. 

"  Sheriff,  come  this  way,"  said  Magnus,  drawing  the  man 
aside  by  the  arm  and  speaking  in  a  low  voice,  so  that  the 
women  might  not  hear.  "  I  don't  care  a  straw  about  myself — 
I'll  get  along  somehow,  and  if  I  don't  it  doesn't  matter — but 
there's  the  child.  She  ought  to  inherit  the  farm,  and  she's  an 
orphan,  but  she'll  get  nothing.  Give  me  a  chance  for  the 
child's  sake.  Sheriff.  Don't  be  hard  on  me.  Sell  up  half  my 
stock  to  pay  part  of  the  interest  and  let  me  have  two  years 
more — only  two." 

"  You  know  quite  well  that  the  mortgage  is  on  the  loose 
property  as  well  as  the  land,"  said  the  Sheriff.  "  How  can  I 
sap  away  the  security?  As  for  the  girl,  she's  young  and 
strong;  let  her  go  into  service." 


352  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

Magnus  bit  his  lip  in  an  effort  to  control  himself,  and  then 
he  said,  "  You  are  quite  right,  sir;  the  girl  and  I  can  take  care 
of  ourselves,  but  there's  the  old  mother.  She  was  born  in  this 
house  and  she  expected  to  die  here.  I  shouldn't  so  much 
mind  if  she  were  gone,  and  to  tell  you  the  truth  she's  not  well 
now,  sir.    Give  me  one  more  year,  Sheriff — one  single  year." 

"  It's  no  use  wasting  words,"  said  the  Sheriff.  "  Matters 
have  gone  too  far.    The  only  thing  I  can  do  now  is " 

"What,  sir?" 

"  If  you  can  pay  me  the  whole  of  the  interest  before 
nine  o'clock  to-morrow  morning  I  can  stop  the  sale  on  my 
own  responsibility." 

"  Eight  thousand  crowns !  "  said  Magnus,  raising  his  voice 
to  a  cry  of  derision ;  "  you  ask  me  to  find  you  eight  thousand 
crowns  before  nine  o'clock  to-morrow  morning?  You  might 
as  well  ask  me  to  'find  you  the  moon !  " 

"  Then  let  us  say  no  more  on  the  subject.  The  Bank  has 
been  very  patient,  very  indulgent " 

"  The  Bank !  "  cried  Magnus,  in  the  wild  defiance  of  his 
despair.  "Has  the  Bank  got  a  mother?  Has  the  Bank  got 
a  child?  No!  The  Bank  is  a  great,  grinding  monster  with- 
out bowels  of  compassion  for  anybody.  God  damn  the  Bank 
and  all  its  fools  and  flunkeys !  " 

"  Magnus  Stephenson,"  said  the  Pastor,  raising  his  little 
fat  hand,  "  I  will  ask  you  to  remember  that  a  clergyman  is  in 
your  company,  and  if  you  take  God's  name  in  vain " 

"  Take  God's  name  in  vain !  You  do  that  often  enough — 
you  do  it  every  Sunday." 

"  I'll  not  pretend  to  misunderstand  you,  Magnus  Stephen- 
son, for  I  know  you  are  deeply  tainted  with  skepticism, 
and  since  you  ceased  to  come  to  church " 

"  Church !  You  pray  to  God  in  your  churches,  and  what 
does  He  do  for  you  ?  What  does  He  do  for  any  one  ?  What 
has  He  done  for  me  ?  " 

"  If  your  life  had  been  straight  and  pure  God  would  have 
watched  over  .you." 

"  And  hasn't  it  ?  Haven't  I  tried  to  do  what  was  right  ? 
And  yet  God  is  seeing  me  sold  up  and  turned  out,  and  my 
dear  ones  left  to  die  in  a  ditch." 

"God  chastises  His  own,  and  if  we  only  have  faith  in 
Him-- — " 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  353 

"Faith  in  Him?  Where  is  He?  Is  He  in  the  North- 
lands ?  I  have  never  heard  of  it.  Is  He  in  the  Southlands  ? 
I've  never  seen  Him  here,  though  I've  seen  the  devil  often 
enough.  He's  in  the  clouds  if  He's  anywhere,  and  that's  no 
use  to  me." 

"  Magnus  Stephenson " 

"If  God  is  on  the  earth  let  Him  do  something.  Here's 
His  chance.  You  call  the  poor  His  people,  don't  you? 
Well,  I've  fed  and  sheltered  His  people  for  fifteen  years, 
and  novp  I  want  feeding  and  sheltering  myself.  I  want  eight 
thousand  crowns  before  nine  o'clock  to-morrow  morning,  and 
if  God  can  do  anything  in  the  world  let  him  find  me  the 
money  and  save  my  mother  and  my  child  from  starvation. 
But  He  can't  do  it !    He  can  do  nothing !  " 

"  Magnus  Stephenson,"  said  the  little  clergyman,  raising 
his  little  fat  hand  again,  "  when  you  come  to  stand  before  the 
great  white  throne  God  will  have  something  to  forgive  you." 

"  Pastor  Peter,  when  I  come  to  stand  before  the  great 
white  throne  I  shall  have  something  to  forgive  God,  it  seems 
to  me." 

"  Blasphemy !  Blasphemy !  "  cried  the  Pastor,  and  as  he 
followed  the  Sheriff  out  of  the  house  Magnus  sent  a  ringing 
laugh  of  contempt  after  him  into  the  darkness  of  the  night. 
At  the  same  moment  two  sheep-dogs  that  had  been  lying  at 
the  door  with  their  snouts  on  their  paws,  as  if  anxious  to  join 
the  uproar,  began  to  growl  and  bark,  whereupon  Magnus  (who 
had  always  been  a  lover  of  animals)  kicked  them  savagely 
and  then  reeled  back  to  his  seat  by  the  stove. 

The  strangers  being  gone  and  the  little  family  alone,  Elin, 
"who  had  been  standing  by  the  dresser,  went  over  to  Magnus 
and  slid  into  her  seat  on  his  knee  and  said : 

"  You  must  not  think  about  me,  Uncle  Magnus.  Wherever 
you  have  to  go  I  will  go  too,  and  what  is  good  enough  for  you 
is  good  enough  for  Elin.  And  then,  who  knows  what  may 
happen  before  the  Sheriff  comes  back  in  the  morning  ?  This 
is  New  Year's  Eve,  you  know.  All  good  things  come  at  New 
Year — miracles  come  at  New  Year,  Uncle." 

But  the  sweet  buoyancy  of  her  girlish  spirits,  which  had 
been  the  sunshine  of  his  life  for  so  many  years,  was  failing 
him  at  last,  and  putting  her  aside  with  petulant  expressions 
he  got  up  and  went  out  to  the  back. 


354  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

Then  Anna,  who  had  been  sitting  in  silence  by  the  table, 
took  the  Bible  and  four  hymn-books  from  the  corner  cup- 
board and  rang  the  bell  for  prayers. 

*'  I  wonder  why  I  did  that  ?  "  she  said.  "  I  forgot  that  Eric 
was  gone.  I  hope  he  found  shelter  somewhere,  poor  boy — I 
should  pity  a  dog  that  had  to  be  out  of  doors  on  a  night  like 
this." 

And  then  Elin,  in  default  of  Magnus,  read  the  lesson  which 
Anna  had  marked  for  her.  It  was  the  psalm  beginning,"  The 
Lord  is  my  Shepherd,  I  shall  not  want."  And  when  the  short 
chapter  was  finished  the  two  women  stood  up  and  sang  a 
hymn — Elin  in  the  silvery  treble  of  youth  and  Anna  in  the 
husky  tones  of  age,  they  two  only  in  the  lonely  house  among 
the  solitary  hills,  with  nothing  about  them  but  the  darkness 
and  the  snow — nothing  but  that  and  the  immeasurable  wings 
of  God. 

"  Happy  the  man  whose  tender  care 

Relieves  the  poor  distressed  ; 

When  he  by  trouble's  compassed  round 

The  Lord  will  give  him  rest." 

Anna  sat  down  when  the  hymn  was  ended,  but  Elin  con- 
tinued to  stand  by  the  table,  and  closing  her  eyes  with  her 
innocent  face  uplifted,  she  said  a  little  prayer  for  herself. 

"  O  Father,"  she  said,  "  bless  Uncle  Magnus,  so  that  he 
may  fear  no  evil.  Show  me  how  to  help  him,  so  that  I  may 
not  be  a  burden  and  a  care.  Dear  Jesus,  send  the  miracle 
that  will  save  Uncle  Magnus  and  grandma  and  me.  It  will 
be  such  a  little  thing  to  you,  but  such  a  great,  great  thing  to 
us,  and  we  shall  all  be  so  happy  and  dwell  in  the  house  of  the 
Lord  forever.     For  Christ's  sake.    Amen." 

Then  she  opened  her  trustful  eyes  and  said,  "  I'm  sure  He 
will,  grandma,"  and  kissing  Anna  she  said  "Good  night"  in 
a  cheery  voice  and  went  off  to  bed. 

Prayers  being  over,  Magnus  returned  to  the  hall  and  began 
to  rake  out  the  stove  for  the  night.  The  clouds  hung  heavier 
on  him  than  ever,  and  thinking  to  banish  them  Anna  talked 
of  Elin. 

"  She  grows  more  and  more  like  her  mother,  and  sometimes 
I  think  it  can  only  be  a  di-eam  that  our  dear  Thora  is  dead. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  355 

If  you  had  heard  her  praying  for  the  miracle  it  would  have 
filled  your  heart  brimful.  She  has  gone  to  bed  quite  certain 
that  the  miracle  will  come  before  morning." 

"  It  would  have  to  be  a  miracle  to  help  us  now,  mother," 
said  Magnus.  "  And  miracles  don't  happen — except  such  of 
them  as  we  make  for  ourselves." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  Magnus  ?  "  said  Anna,  light- 
ing the  candles. 

"  I  mean — if  I  had  to  live  my  life  over  again,  I  shouldn't 
try  to  do  what  is  right,  mother." 

"  You  wouldn't  do  what  is  wrong,  would  you  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  wrong  and  no  right,  mother ;  there  is  only 
what  is  best,  and  if  I  had  to  begin  over  again,  I  should  do 
what  was  best — best  for  myself  and  for  the  people  about  me.'* 

"  You  don't  know  what  you  are  saying,  Magnus.  There 
are  moments  when  it  might  seem  to  be  best  to  rob,  even  to 
kill " 

"And  why  not?"  said  Magnus — ^he  was  bolting  the  door. 
"  If  a  man  came  to  this  house  to-night  with  eight  thousand 
crowns  in  his  pocket,  do  you  think  I  should  hesitate  to  take 
them?" 

"  My  son,  you  don't  mean  it." 

"I  do!" 

"  You  are  driven  to  despair,  Magnus,  and  a  despairing 
man's  words  belong  to  the  wind.  If  I  thought  you  meant  it 
I  should  die — I  should  die  this  very  minute." 

She  was  crying  and  there  was  silence  for  a  moment,  and 
then  Magnus  said: 

"  Never  mind,  mother.  It  doesn't  matter  whether  I  meant 
it  or  not,  the  temptation  isn't  likely  to  come  to  me.  Give  me 
the  candle  and  let  us  go  to  bed." 

"  You  have  borne  a  terrible  burden,  Magnus,  and  if  I  could 
only  have  helped  you  to  bear  it " 

"  You  have,  mother.  If  it  had  not  been  for  you  and  Elin 
I  should  have  gone  under  ten  years  ago." 

"  Your  father  knew  he  had  robbed  you  of  your  inheritance, 
and  perhaps  that  helped  to  kill  him  in  the  end." 

"  It  wasn't  fathers  fault  altogether.  He  tried  to  do  what 
was  right,  too.  But  the  poor  wretch  who  comes  after  the 
prodigal  gleans  in  a  barren  field,  you  know." 


350  THE    PEODIGAL     SOW 

With  their  candles  in  hand  they  were  turning-  to  go — Anna 
to  the  badstofa  above,  and  Magnus  to  the  guest-room  off  the 
hall — when  the  dogs,  who  had  risen  again,  and  were  snuffling 
at  the  bottom  of  the  door,  began  to  growl  and  bark. 

''  There's  somebody  coming,"  said  Magnus. 

A  moment  later  there  was  a  sharp  knock  at  the  window,  as 
•with  a  metal  end  of  a  riding-whip,  and  a  tremulous,  high- 
pitched  voice  outside,  making  the  customary  Icelandic  sal- 
utation, "  God  be  with  you !  " 

They  looked  at  each  other  in  blank  sui*prise,  while  back- 
ward thoughts  galloped  through  their  minds,  and  then 
Magnus,  forgetting  to  give  the  customary  reply,  walked  back 
to  the  door,  and  threw  it  open. 

There  was  a  dull  thud  of  heavy  feet  on  the  outside  steps, 
and  at  the  nest  moment  a  man  stood  on  the  thi-eshold.  He 
seemed  to  be  an  old  man,  for  his  eyebrows,  beard,  and 
mustache,  and  as  much  as  could  be  seen  of  his  hair  under 
the  peaked  hood  of  his  ulster,  were  white  with  snow.  One 
moment  he  stood  there  as  if  breathless  after  his  journey, 
looking"  from  Magnus  to  the  mother,  and  from  the  mother 
to  Magnus.  Then  he  said,  in  the  same  tremulous  voice  as 
before : 

"  Can  I  have  a  bed  here  to-night,  and  shelter  for  my 
horse  ?  " 

It  seemed  to  Anna  that  he  spoke  to  her,  but  instead  of 
answering  immediately,  she  looked  across  at  Magnus  with 
helpless  eyes  that  were  full  of  inexpressible  fears.  Magnus 
looked  back  at  his  mother  and  hesitated  for  an  instant,  while 
he  held  the  door  open  with  his  hand.     Then: 

"  Come  in,  sir,"  he  said,  and  the  stranger  stepped  int« 
the  house. 


PART  VIl 


The  hall  no  question  makes  of  ayes  and  noes^ 
But  right  or  left,  as  strikes  the  player  goes  ; 
And  lie  who  tossed  you  down  into  the  field. 
He  knows  about  it  all — He  knows — HE  knows.'" 


"  The  little  mare  is  hot — she'll  want  a  rub  down  and  a  rest 
before  you  give  her  a  feed." 

"  I'll  see  to  that,  sir,"  said  Magnus,  and  he  went  out  and 
pulled  the  door  after  him. 

Christian  Christiansson  had  taken  two  paces  into  the  hall, 
and  was  standing  there  like  a  man  who  is  dazed.  His  heart 
was  thumping  against  his  ribs,  and  his  pulse  was  beating 
violently,  and  he  felt  that  he  would  fall  if  he  took  another 
step  forward.  So  often  had  he  pictured  himself  in  that  place 
that  he  could  not  at  first  believe  in  the  reality.  Coming  out 
of  the  darkness,  the  light  of  the  candles  dazzled  him,  but  he 
looked  round  the  room,  trying  to  remember.  At  one  glance 
he  took  in  everything — the  old  portraits  on  the  wall,  the  old 
Bornholme  clock  in  the  comer,  the  stove  and  the  armchair 
in  front  of  it — and,  fresh  from  the  warm  comfort  of  Govern- 
ment House,  the  Inn-farm  seemed  bare  and  bleak.  This  sent 
a  chill  pang  of  remorse  to  his  mind,  and  the  pain  of  con- 
science increased  when  he  looked  at  his  mother. 

Her  hair  was  white  that  had  once  been  dark,  and  her  face, 
which  had  been  full  of  the  loveliness  of  love  and  the  beauty  of 
happiness,  was  scored  deep  with  lines  of  suffering.  His  heart 
yearned  over  her,  and  notwithstanding  his  determination  not 
to  reveal  his  identity  until  morning,  it  was  as  much  as  he 
could  do  to  restrain  himself  from  saying  as  well  as  he  could 
for  the  emotion  that  was  mastering  him,  "  Mother,  don't  you 

357 


35S  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

know  me?  I  am  Oscar,"  and  then  throwing  his  arms  about 
her  dear  neck  as  he  had  always  meant  to  do. 

Meantime  Anna,  who  had  recovered  her  self-control  and 
was  lighting  the  lamp  that  swung  from  the  ceiling,  glanced 
across  at  the  new-comer  and  thought,  "  lie's  nearly  frozen 
stiff,  and  no  wonder."  With  that  thought  she  bustled  about 
to  rekindle  the  stove,  and  called  on  him  to  remove  his  snow- 
covered  clothing. 

"Won't  you  take  off  your  cloak  and  boots,  sir?"  she  said, 
and  though  the  question  was  so  commonplace  he  could  not 
answer  immediately,  for  his  voice  would  not  come. 

"  Your  cloak  and  boots,  sir,  and  I'll  put  them  to  dry  by 
the  stove." 

"  Ah  yes,  of  course,  certainly." 

She  stood  by  him  while  he  threw  off  his  ulster  and  shook 
the  snow  from  his  hair  and  beard,  emerging  a  younger  and 
stronger  man,  but  she  only  thought,  "  A  stranger,  I  suppose. 
Why  does  he  travel  in  this  weather  ?  " 

When  he  had  pulled  off  his  riding-boots,  she  brought  him 
a  pair  of  Magnus's  slipi^ers  and  said: 

"  You  must  have  had  a  terrible  ride,  sir." 

"  It  was  pretty  bad  certainly,"  he  said,  and  after  that  he 
got  on  better. 

"  A  gentleman  must  have  been  anxious  to  get  on  with  hia 
journey  to  travel  on  a  day  like  this." 

"  I  was — I  had  something  to  do  at  the  end  of  it." 

"Have  you  come  far,  sir?  " 

"  Altogether  ?     Yes,  very  far." 

"From  Reykjavik  perhaps?" 

"  Farther  than  that — from  England." 

«  From  England !  " 

"  From  lx)ndon." 

As  he  stooped  to  put  on  the  slippers  ho  thought  his  mother 
was  looking  at  him,  and  he  trembled  between  fear  and  hope 
of  being  recognized. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  said — his  head  was  down — "  I  suppose 
you've  never  been  as  far  as  that,  landlady  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Nor  any  of  your  family?  " 

He  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  say  this,  but  hia 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  359 

mother  did  not  seem  to  hear  him — she  was  on  her  knees, 
breaking  sticks  into  the  stove. 

"  Sit  up  and  warm  yourself,  sir.  My  son  raked  out  the  fire, 
but  these  sticks  will  bum  presently.  You  are  here  on  busi- 
ness, I  suppose? " 

"  Yes,  I'm  here  on  business." 

Anna  thought  of  the  auction  and  waited  for  the  stranger  to 
speak  of  it.  When  he  did  not  do  so  she  said,  "  Travelers 
come  from  England  to  buy  sheep  and  ponies,  but  they  don't 
often  come  in  the  winter,  sir." 

Still  he  did  not  speak  (he  was  thinking  of  Elin  and  looking 
round  for  any  trace  of  her),  and  rising  from  the  stove  Anna 
said: 

"  But  you'll  be  hungry  after  your  long  ride — what  can  I 
give  you  to  eat  ?  " 

"  Anything  at  all — anything  you  have  ready." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  have  nothing  ready — that  is  to  say,  nothing 
that  is  good  enough  for  the  like  of  you,  sir." 

As  soon  as  he  could  find  his  voice  after  that  he  said,  "  Don't 
you  always  keep  smoked  mutton  in  an  Iceland  house? " 

"  Well,  yes,  if  that  will  do,  sir." 

"  I  should  like  it  above  all  things." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and  he  thought  his  mother 
was  looking  at  him  again.  "  Then  perhaps  you  are  an  Ice- 
lander ? "  she  said. 

"  Yes,  I'm  an  Icelander,"  he  answered. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

Another  wild  impulse  to  reveal  himself  immediately  to 
his  mother,  nearly  swept  down  his  fears,  for  he  was  choking 
with  a  sense  of  duplicity  and  his  conscience  was  fighting  in 
contrary  ways,  but  after  a  moment  his  prudence  conquered, 
and  with  a  gulp  in  his  throat  he  said : 

"  They  call  me  Christian  Christiansson." 

"  Well,  it's  lucky  you  found  us  up,  sir.  We  were  on  the 
point  of  going  to  bed." 

"  I  suppose  the  other  members  of  your  family  are  gone 
already  ? " 

"  There's  only  one  besides  what  you've  seen — my  grand- 
daughter— and  she  had  just  gone  oflF  as  you  came  in,  sir." 

He  looked  at  her  as  she  was  crossing  in  front  of  him,  and 


360  THE    PRODIGAL    SON" 

saw  that  she  was  wearing  the  brooch  which  he  had  given  her 
when  he  came  back  from  Oxford.  That  sent  all  the  blood 
to  his  head  again,  and  he  was  saying,  before  he  was  aware 
of  it— 

"Do  you  know,  landlady,  I've  slept  in  this  house  before?" 

"  It  must  have  been  a  long  time  ago  then — I  don't  remem- 
ber you." 

"  It  iva^  a  long  time  ago.  That,"  pointing  to  the  portrait 
of  Anna  on  the  wall,  "  that  is  a  portrait  of  yourself,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  It  used  to  be,  but  I  was  younger  when  it  was  like  me,  sir." 

A  sudden  softening  came  into  his  voice  as  he  replied,  "  It 
was  exactly  like  you  when  I  saw"  you  last,  landlady." 

"  Then  you've  not  been  here  for  ten  years  at  least,  sir." 

"  Quite  ten  years,"  he  answered.  "  And  that,"  pointing  to 
the  portrait  of  the  Governor,  "  is  a  portrait  of  your  husband." 

"  It  must  be  more  than  ten  years  since  you  were  here,  sir, 
for  my  husband  is  more  than  twelve  years  in  his  grave." 

"  It  is  more  than  ten  years.  In  fact  it  is  sixteen  years — 
nearly  sixteen." 

She  looked  fixedly  at  him  for  a  moment  and  something  in 
her  memory  seemed  to  stir,  for  her  bosom  heaved  perceptibly, 
but  she  only  said,  with  a  deep  sigh,  "  We've  seen  trouble  since 
you  traveled  in  these  parts  before,  sir." 

"  Ah,  yes,  I've  heard  of  it — I  heard  of  it  in  Reykjavik. 
You  had  a  son " 

"  That  was  my  son  who  opened  the  door  to  you," 

"  But  you  had  another  son — a  younger  son." 

"  Yes,  but — we  never  talk  of  him  now,  sir." 

"  Who's  portrait  is  that  in  your  brooch,  landlady  ?  " 

"  It's  his— he  is  dead." 

"Died  in  disgrace,  didn't  he?" 

"  Who  knows  that,  sir  ?  Man  sees  the  deed,  they  say,  but 
God  the  circumstance." 

"  They  think  hard  things  of  him  in  Reykjavik,  though. 
They  say  he  robbed  his  father  of  every  penny  when  he  went 
away,  and  never  sent  anything  home  toward  the  maintenance 
of  his  child." 

"  It  needs  no  skill  to  wound  the  defenceless,"  said  Anna, 
bridling  up.  "  The  father  robbed  himself  to  save  his  son,  if 
you  want  to  know  the  truth,  and  as  for  never  sending  any- 


THE    TRODIGAL    SON  361 

thing  home  for  the  child  the  poor  boy  had  nothing  to  send, 
for  he  was  poor  himself,  sir." 

"  So  you  found  that  out,  did  you  ?  " 

"  After  he  was  dead  we  did — one  of  his  father's  English 
friends  wrote  to  tell  us  so.  And  all  the  time  he  had  been 
writing  letters  to  me  to  say  how  busy  he  was  and  how  well  he 
was  succeeding — ^just  to  keep  up  my  heart  and  save  me  frorq 
fretting." 

The  mother's  lingering  fondness  for  her  prodigal  was  rising 
in  her  eyes  and  breaking  in  her  voice  and  she  was  trying  to 
turn  away,  but  he  could  not  let  her  go. 

"  What  a  pity  his  father  didn't  live  long  enough  to  hear 
that !    It  would  have  softened  his  heart  toward  him,  perhaps." 

"  It  didn't  need  softening,  sir — not  at  the  end  at  all  events." 

"  His  father  forgave  him,  did  he?  " 

"  He  died  thinking  his  son  had  become  a  great  man  and 
had  justified  all  his  hopes  and  atoned  for  everything.  It  was 
only  a  delusion,  sir,  but  it  made  him  very  happy." 

"  Your  son  was  a  musician,  wasn't  he  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  from  the  time  he  was  a  child  he  used  to 
scribble  things  and  call  them  his  compositions.  The  pieces 
of  paper  always  disappeared  and  I  never  knew  what  had 
become  of  them,  but  when  his  father  was  lying  dead  I  found 
out  where  they  were." 

"  And  where  were  they  ?  " 

"  In  his  poor  father's  hands." 

Christian  Christiansson  had  gone  on  and  on,  while  the  hot 
blood  throbbed  in  his  brain,  struggling  between  the  desire  to 
reveal  himself  and  the  fear  of  doing  so,  but  he  was  drawn  up 
at  last  by  a  stifling  sense  of  his  own  unworthiness,  and  before 
he  knew  what  he  was  doing  he  said : 

"  The  man  who  could  do  wrong  to  a  father  who  loved  him 
like  that  must  have  been  a  scoundrel — a  bad-hearted  scoun- 
drel, and  he  deserved  everything  that  happened  to  him.'' 

"  He  was  nothing  of  the  kind,  sir,"  said  Anna.  "  He  may 
have  done  wrong — I'm  not  defending  him — but  a  better- 
hearted  boy  was  never  born  into  the  world.  Everybody  loved 
him,  and  he  loved  everybody,  and  as  for  me " 

Christian  Christiansson  recovered  himself  at  the  sound  of 
Anna's  faltering  words.  "God  bless  her!"  he  thought,  and 
24 


382  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

iis  heart  danced  to  a  new  song,  but  he  only  said,  with  a  per- 
ceptible lowering  of  his  voice,  "  I  beg  yonr  pardon  !  Naturally 
his  mother  cannot  think  so,  but  this  is  the  first  time  I've 
heard  a  good  word  for  him  since  I  came  to  Iceland." 

"  I  hadn't  meant  to  speak  of  him  at  all,  sir.  I  never  do 
when  my  other  son  is  near — Hush!     He  is  coming  back." 

But  the  noise  which  they  heard  behind  them  was  that  of 
the  opening  and  closing  of  a  bedroom  not  a  kitchen  door, 
and  it  was  followed  by  the  light  footstep  of  a  girl,  whereupon 
Anna  said : 

"  Elin !     I  thought  you  were  in  bed  and  asleep,  my  child." 

"  I  was,  but  I  awoke  and  heard  you  had  a  visitor,  so  I  got 
up  to  help,  grandma." 

Christian  Christiansson  trembled  from  head  to  foot.  The 
silvery  voice  at  his  back  seemed  to  come  to  him  from  across 
a  wide  abyss — for  it  was  a  familiar  voice  but  vague  as  with 
the  mist  of  dreams  and  dim  as  with  the  clouds  of  night. 

"  This  is  my  granddaughter,  sir,"  said  Anna.  And  then 
Christian  Christiansson  turned  and  saw  her — a  young  girl  as 
tall  as  a  woman,  with  fair  complexion,  a  soft  smiling  face, 
and  beautiful  blue  eyes.  She  wore  a  laced  bodice,  a  turned- 
down  collar,  a  hufa,  a  tassel,  plaited  hair,  and  looked  like 
the  living  picture  of  what  her  mother  had  been  when  he  came 
from  college. 

It  was  his  daughter,  his  little  Elin,  whom  he  had  traveled 
so  far  to  see,  but  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  all  the  cruel  years 
had  rolled  back  in  a  moment,  and  it  was  Thora  returned  to 
life. 

n 

"  Well,  now  that  you  are  here,  you  had  better  lay  the 
table,"  said  Anna. 

"  Yes,  grandma,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Put  on  the  smoked  mutton  and  the  Rullapilsa  and  the 
Rikling,  while  I  go  to  the  elt-house  to  make  coflFee." 

"  Yes,  grandma." 

"  Make  yourself  at  home.  Christian  Christiansson — m;^ 
granddaughter  will  wait  on  you." 

"  I  will,"  he  tried  to  say,  but  his  voice  would  scarcely  come. 


THE    TRODIGAL    SON  363 

Anna  being  gone,  lie  sat  for  some  moments  looking  at  Elin 
while  she  tripped  from  dresser  to  table,  and  in  and  out  of 
the  pantry,  spreading  the  cloth,  and  laying  the  plates  and  the 
food.  The  girl  was  so  simjjle,  so  natural,  so  free  from  self- 
consciousness,  that  she  seemed  to  be  hardly  aware  of  his 
presence,  for  she  hummed  to  herself  softly  as  if  some  song- 
bird in  her  breast  could  not  be  kept  quite  still.  His  heart 
swelled  and  throbbed  as  his  eyes  followed  her  about,  and  when 
she  left  the  room  the  light  seemed  to  fail  in  it,  and  when  she 
came  back  the  air  seemed  to  become  warm.  In  the  dizzy 
happiness  of  that  hour  he  felt  as  if  he  had  lost  a  daughter  in 
every  one  of  the  fifteen  years  he  had  lived  without  her,  and 
now  that  she  was  near,  so  close,  his  hands  burned  and  itched 
to  hold  her.  He  wanted  to  take  her  in  his  arms  and  say,  "  My 
child !  My  child !  Doesn't  something  tell  you  who  I  am  ?  I 
am  your  father,  and  I  have  wanted  you  so  much  and  thought 
of  you  so  often,  and  now  I  have  come  to  fetch  you  and  we 
shall  never  be  parted  again !  "  But  between  fear  of  frighten- 
ing her  and  dread  of  disclosing  himself,  all  he  could  do  was 
to  conquer  the  fluttering  in  his  throat  and  say : 

"  Your  name  is  Elin,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  girl. 

"  What  a  beautiful  name  it  is,  too — Eleen !  Your  father 
chose  it,  didn't  he  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  heard  that,  sir.     Did  grandmother  say  so  ?  " 

"  Grandmother  and  I,"  he  stammered,  "  have  been  talking 
of  your  father.     You  don't  remember  him  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  sir — he  died  when  I  was  quite  little." 

"  What  a  loss  that  must  have  been  to  you,  my  cliild !  " 

"  I  can't  say  that,  sir,"  said  the  girl,  "  because,  you  see, 
tJncle  Magnus  has  been  the  same  as  a  father  to  me  all  my 
life,  and  I  have  never  known  any  difference." 

"  What  a  loss  to  your  father  himself  then  1  How  happy  you 
<<pould  have  made  him,  and  how  proud  he  would  have  been 
^f  you!" 

"  I  can't  say  that  either,"  said  the  girl  again,  "  because  he 
lived  five  years  after  I  was  born,  and  it  seems  he  never  took 
•any  notice  of  me." 

"  Did  grandmother  tell  you  so  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,   sir.     Indeed  no !     Nor  Uncle  Magnus   neither. 


364  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

But  evei-ybody  knows  all  about  my  father,  and  even  the  girls 
at  school  knew  that." 

A  feeling  of  mortal  shame  came  over  him,  and  the  warm 
pulsing  place  in  his  breast  grew  still  and  cold. 

"  So  you  are  not  sorry  your  father  is  dead,  Elin?  " 

"  It  wouldn't  be  right  to  say  that,  sir." 

"  At  all  events  you  feel  no  love  for  him  ?  " 

"  I  never  knew  him — you  can't  love  somebody  you  never 
knew,  can  you  ?  Perhaps  if  he  had  lived  longer  and  returned 
home  I  might  have  come  to  love  him.  But  I  don't  see  how 
I  could  if  what  people  say  about  him  is  true." 

"  What  do  they  say,  my  child?  " 

"  They  say  he  was  unkind  to  my  mother,  and  that  that  was 
one  of  the  reasons  why  she  died  so  early." 

"  Then  you  never  wish  you  could  have  seen  and  known 
your  father  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  ?  If  he  wasn't  good  to  my  poor  mother,  why 
should  I  think  he  would  have  been  good  to  me?  But  see, 
your  supper  is  ready.  Grandma  will  bring  the  coffee  pres- 
ently; won't  yoli  begin  with  the  meat,  sir?" 

He  sat  down  to  the  table  but  his  hunger  was  gone.  For  a 
moment  he  almost  wished  himself  back  in  the  black  night 
from  which  he  had  come.  The  girl's  simple  words  had  been 
ringing  the  death-knell  of  his  expectations.  He  had  left  her 
all  these  years  to  the  keeping  and  care  of  others — could  he 
expect  to  come  back  now  and  find  the  affection  he  had  for- 
feited? Ah  no!  He  had  come  too  late — too  late!  But  just 
as  one  part  of  the  plan  he  had  formed  for  himself  was  becom- 
ing vague  and  shadowy  a  gleam  of  new  light  was  shot  into 
his  brain,  and  his  heart  rose  with  a  bound. 

"  Didn't  grandma  call  you  Christian  Christiansson  ?  "  asked 
the  girl. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered.  "  Ever  hear  that  name  before,  my 
child?" 

The  girl  turned  to  him  with  a  face  glowing  with  excite- 
ment and  said,  "  Everybody  in  Iceland  has  heard  it,  sir.  It  is 
the  same  as  the  name  of  the  great  composer  who  lives  in 
England." 

A  deafening  tumult  of  joy  was  rising  within  him,  and  ho 
said,  "  So  you — you  have  heard  of  him,  have  you? " 


THE    PRODIGAL    SOX  365 

"  I  sing  his  songs,  sir.  They  are  beautiful !  I  think  they 
are  the  most  beautiful  songs  in  the  world.  Would  you  like 
me  to  sing  one  of  them  while  you  eat  your  supper  ?  " 

"Will  you?" 

"  I  should  like  to,"  she  said,  and  before  he  could  catch  the 
breath  which  had  been  suspended  she  had  slipped  off  like  a 
shaft  of  moonlight  and  was  back  like  a  ray  of  the  sun,  bring- 
ing a  guitar  in  her  hands. 

"  This  was  my  mother's  guitar,  and  now  it's  mine,  and  it's 
such  a  good  one,"  she  said,  and  with  the  utter  freedom  from 
self-consciousness  which  is  the  charm  of  children  she  sat  and 
began  to  play.  After  a  moment  she  stopped,  with  her  head 
aside,  and  said : 

"  Which  should  it  be,  I  wonder  ?  But  perhaps  you  know 
them  all  and  would  like  me  to  sing  something  in  particular  ?  " 

His  face  was  down,  the  waves  of  emotion  were  surging 
through  and  through  him.  "  Sing — sing  anything  you  like, 
my  darling,"  he  replied. 

The  fluttered  earnestness  of  his  words  startled  her  for  a 
moment,  but  she  only  smiled  with  a  new  sweetness  and  began 
to  sing,  first  in  low,  clear  half-tones,  and  then  in  a  high, 
tremulous  treble  that  was  like  the  peal  of  a  lark  at  the  gate 
of  heaven. 

Christian  Christiansson  could  not  eat;  he  could  only  rest 
his  elbows  on  the  table  and  cover  his  face  with  his  hand. 
His  own  child  was  singing  his  own  song  to  him  in  a  voice 
that  was  like  her  mother's  voice  and  like  his  own  voice  too ! 

When  the  song  was  done  she  turned  to  him  again  with  eyes 
shining  with  unshed  tears  and  said,  "  Isn't  that  beautiful?  " 

"  It  was  beautifully  sung,  my  child,  beautifully !  "  he  said. 
And  then,  after  a  moment,  "  Elin,  would  you  like  to  hear 
something  of  the  man  who  wrote  that  song  and  how  he  came 
to  write  it  ?  " 

Elin's  eagerness  was  heart-breaking.  "Indeed,  indeed  I 
should,"  she  said.    "  Do  you  know  your  namesake  then? " 

"  I  have  known  him  all  his  life,  my  child." 

"  Tell  me  about  him.  Oh,  do  tell  me.  One  who  has  such 
beautiful  thoughts  and  feelings  must  be  so  good  and  noble." 

"  He  is  neither  the  one  nor  the  other,  Elin,  but  only  a  poor 
wayward  sinner  like  ourselves.     In  early  life  he  did  wrong  by 


366  THE    PEODIGAL    SON 

his  young  wife  and  she  died.  Then  he  did  wrong  by  his 
father  and  he  had  to  fly  from  his  country.  After  that  he 
went  through  many  sufferings  and  was  guilty  of  many  sins, 
but  he  came  to  himself  at  the  end,  and  then  he  remembered  a 
little  daughter  whom  he  had  left  behind  him.  He  wished  to 
return  to  her  immediately,  and  be  a  father  to  her  at  last,  and 
make  it  up  to  her  for  all  that  he  had  done  amiss  to  her 
mother  who  was  dead.  But  there  were  many  things  to  do 
first,  for  he  was  like  one  who  was  buried  under  an  avalanche 
which  he  had  brought  down  on  himself,  and  he  had  to  work 
his  way  back  to  life  and  the  world.  So  when  he  was  far  away 
and  his  heart  was  hungry  for  the  love  of  his  little  girl,  and  he 
didn't  know  what  was  happening  to  her,  and  he  wanted  so 
much — oh  so  much — to  go  to  her,  but  could  not  do  so  yet 
because  he  had  sinned  and  must  pay  his  penalty,  he  wrote 
that  song,  and  it  was  the  cry  of  his  soul  to  the  mother  in 
heaven  to  comfort  and  care  for  their  child  on  earth." 

As  Elin  listened  to  the  story  of  Christian  Christiansson  the 
tears  which  had  been  standing  in  her  eyes  rolled  dowm  her 
cheeks,  and  her  bosom  under  her  laced  bodice  slowly  rose  and 
as  slowly  fell  again. 

"  How  beautiful !  "  she  said.  And  seeing  how  much  she 
was  moved  by  the  sorrows  of  the  man  who  was  not  her  father, 
the  new  light  came  to  him  and  he  asked  himself  why,  if  she 
could  not  care  for  him  in  his  true  character,  she  should  not 
love  him  as  Christian  Christiansson. 

There  was  a  shadowy  ghost  of  pain  in  that  thought  too,  but 
he  put  it  aside.  After  years  of  hope  and  heavy  labor  he  had 
come  home  to  claim  his  child,  and  what  he  had  dreaded  had 
come  to  pass — her  heart  had  been  poisoned  against  him.  But 
while  she  loathed  him  as  Oscar  Stephenson  she  loved  him  as 
Christian  Christiansson!  Oh,  beautiful,  blind,  pathetic  fal- 
lacy, could  he  not  let  it  be? 

In  a  tumult  of  heart  and  brain  that  was  like  a  whirlpool  in 
a  dark  river,  he  had  risen  to  go  to  the  girl,  hardly  knowing 
what  he  was  to  do  or  say,  when  Anna  came  back  with  a  smok- 
ing coffee-pot  in  her  hand,  saying  in  a  cheery  voice: 

"  Here  it  is  at  last !  The  fire  had  gone  out  in  the  elt-house, 
and  I  had  work  enough  to  kindle  it." 

And  then,  having  both  in  the  room  at  one  moment — his 


THE    PRODIGAL    SOX  367 

mother  and  his  daughter — his  feelings  almost  mastered  him 
again,  and  he  had  as  much  as  he  could  do  to  keep  himself 
from  blurting  out  everj'thing  and  so  being  done  with  further 
torture.  But  just  as  the  words  of  his  confession  were  trem- 
bling on  his  lips  he  thought,  "Not  to-night;  to-morrow 
morning;  and  then  what  joy,  what  happiness!  " 

Almost  at  the  same  moment  Magnus  returned  to  the  house 
and  said,  "  The  little  mare  was  nearly  done,  sir,  but  I've 
rubbed  her  down  and  given  her  hay,  and  she  shall  have  a  mash 
before  I  go  to  bed." 

"  Let  us  have  a  bottle  of  brandy  first,"  said  Christian 
Christiansson,  and  a  few  minutes  later  Elin  was  carrying 
away  the  dishes  to  wash  them,  Anna  was  going  into  Mag- 
nus's bedroom  to  make  it  ready  for  the  guest,  and  the  two 
brothers  were  sitting  at  opposite  sides  of  the  table  with  the 
bottle  between  them. 


UL 

They  were  less  like  each  other  now  than  ever  before — the 
elder  with  his  matted,  black  beard,  his  strong  features,  and 
the  vertical  lines  in  his  low  brow  under  the  upright  stubble 
of  his  iron-grey  hair;  the  younger  with  his  luminous  brown 
eyes  and  delicate  face,  his  full  round  forehead,  and  his  thin, 
silken,  light  hair  brushed  backward  to  the  crown. 

Christian  Christiansson  was  quivering  to  the  core  at  this 
first  encounter  with  the  brother  whom  he  had  wronged  and 
ruined,  but  he  tried  to  bear  himself  bravely  and  to  see  how 
safe  it  would  be  to  reveal  his  identity  when  the  time  came 
to  do  so. 

"  It's  good  of  you  to  give  up  your  room  to  me,"  he  began. 

"  That's  nothing — nothing  at  all,"  said  Magnus. 

"  And  perhaps  you  ought  to  know  why  I'm  here  to-night.'* 

"  Please  yourself,  sir — please  yourself." 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  then,  I'm  here  to  attend  the  auction 
to-morrow  morning.  I  only  heard  of  it  in  Eeykjavik  yester- 
day, having  arrived  by  the  '  Laura  '  the  day  before." 

"  So  that  was  the  business  that  brought  you,  sir?  " 

"  It  was.    I've  been  abroad  for  fifteen  years,  and  I've  made 


368  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

Bome  money,  and  now  I've  come  home  to  invest  it.  So  know- 
ing this  was  a  good  farm " 

"  None  better  in  Iceland,  sir,  if  it  only  had  a  chance,  and 
if  you  can  afford  to  buy  it  out  and  out " 

"  I  think  I  can — I've  money  enough  in  my  pocket  at  this 
moment  to  buy  the  place  to-morrow  and  leave  some  for  some- 
thing else.  I'm  sorry  for  you,  though,  and  if  it's  painfiil  to 
you  to  hear  me  talk  like  this " 

Magnus,  who  had  been  rolling  in  his  chair  like  a  man  whose 
mind  as  well  as  his  body  was  uneasy,  began  to  laugh  im- 
moderately. "  Not  at  all,  sir !  Not  at  all !  "  he  said,  filling 
his  glass.  "  It's  pleasant  to  hear  of  anybody  having  more 
money  than  he  wants.  For  my  part,  I've  never  had  enough 
to  pay  my  debts,  sir.  For  sixteen  years  I've  been  ploughing 
the  waves  and  now,"  raising  his  glass  and  draining  it,  "  I'm 
reaping  the  breakers,  b them !  " 

Christian  Christiansson  trembled  to  his  very  heart  at  the 
sound  of  Magnus's  laughter — the  bitter  laughter  of  rebellion 
and  despair — but  he  tried  to  cover  up  his  fear  and  to  carry 
it  off  with  a  cheery  tone. 

"  Don't  be  too  depressed,"  he  said.  "  Nobody  knows  what 
the  future  has  in  store  for  him.  It's  a  pretty  dark  night 
outside,  but  all  the  same  the  sun  will  rise  to-morrow  morn- 
ing. Besides,  there's  always  a  sunny  side  to  misfortune  if 
we'll  only  allow  ourselves  to  see  it.  Life  is  sweet,  my  friend, 
whatever  happens." 

"You  think  it  is,  sir?" 

"  I  know  it  is,  so  why  should  we  sit  down  on  our  little 
handful  of  thorns  ?  " 

"  Because  some  of  us  have  nothing  else  to  sit  upon,"  said 
Magnus,  and  he  laughed  again — the  same  cold,  quaking 
laughter. 

Christian  Christiansson  shuddered,  but  struggled  on. 
"  You  think  you've  failed,  but  I  know  some  that  have 
succeeded  who  would  be  glad  to  change  places  with  you 
any  minute.  They've  got  their  gold  or  their  fame  or  both 
pouring  down  on  them  like  an  avalanche,  and  nothing  to  do 
with  it,  nobody  to  share  it  with — so  it  is  only  so  much  Dead 
Sea  fruit  being  piled  on  their  backs.  You  are  not  like  that. 
Even  if  you  have  to  lose  your  laud,  you've  got  your  health. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON"  3G5 

and  a  good  character  and  a  clean  conscience,  and  your  dear 
ones  left  to  you,  haven't  you? " 

"  That's  why !  "  said  Magnus.  "  You  don't  suppose  I'm 
thinking  of  myself,  do  you?  It's  just  because  I've  got  my 
dear  ones  left  to  me  that  this  accursed  ill-luck  is  so  hard  to 
bear.  What's  it  to  me  to  have  my  houses  full  of  lambs,  if 
the  floods  have  come  and  they  are  floating  on  the  lake? 
You  talk  like  a  man  who  has  never  known  misfortune,  sir." 

Christian  Christiansson  felt  dizzy.  "  Perhaps  I  haven't — 
perhaps  I  have,"  he  said  in  a  faint  voice,  "  but  I've  known 
despair,  and  I  know  that  no  man  can  live  by  that.  We  can 
only  live  by  hope — not  what  is,  but  what  is  to  be — and  if  we 
cannot  believe,  when  the  clouds  are  dark,  that  the  world  is 
ruled  in  righteousness " 

"  And  is  it?  "  said  Magnus.  "  Doee  the  bad  man  suffer  in 
this  world  ?  Do  his  sheep  die  of  the  rot  and  his  cattle  tumble 
over  the  rocks,  or  do  they  increase  faster  than  anybody  else's  ? 
No,  sir,"  he  said,  turning  away  in  his  seat,  "  if  you're  a  rascal 
ready  to  rob  your  own  father,  the  chances  are  you'll  prosper 
in  this  world,  but  if  you're  an  honest  man  trying  to  do  good 
to  everybody,  as  likely  as  not  you'll  do  no  good  to  yourself 
or  to  anybody  about  you." 

The  dizziness  which  had  seized  Christian  Christiansson  was 
increasing  every  moment,  but  he  said : 

"  The  world  has  its  own  way  of  punishing  offenders,  and 
even  if  they  escape  in  life,  death  is  always  waiting  for 
them " 

"  Death  ?  "  said  Magnus,  swinging  round  in  his  creaking 
chair.  "  Death  is  a  blind,  blundering  monster  who  strikes 
down  the  young  and  leaves  the  old,  the  happy  and  leaves  the 
miserable,  the  innocent  and  leaves  the  guilty,  the  poor  help- 
less betrayed  one  and  leaves  the  betrayer!  We  have  all  seen 
that,  haven't  we?     I  have,  I  know  that  much." 

The  heat  and  flame  of  Magnus's  husky  voice  had  fallen  to 
a  thick  whisper  that  was  like  a  broken  sob.  Christian  Chris- 
tiansson dared  not  raise  his  face,  but  he  tried  to  say: 

"  God  brings  out  all  things  well  in  the  end.  I  have  always 
found  it  so.  The  march  of  the  world  may  be  enveloped  in 
darkness,  but  it  tends  toward  justice  in  the  long  run." 

"  What  is  the  long  run  to  me,  sir  ?  "  said  Magnus.    "  I'm 


370  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

only  here  for  a  few  years  and  I  want  justice  now.  I  want  to 
see  the  bad  man  punished  in  the  present,  not  in  some  future 
generation.  Justice,  you  say !  The  sins  of  the  fathers  visited 
on  the  children — that's  the  only  justice  I  see  in  this  world. 
A  poor  child  left  penniless  because  her  father  gambled  or 
drank  the  money  he  didn't  make — do  you  call  that  justice, 
sir?    I  don't!" 

Magnus's  thick  voice  was  breaking  again,  and  there  was 
silence  for  a  little  while. 

"No,  no,  sir!  Don't  tell  me  we  get  our  deserts  in  this 
world — any  of  us — good  or  bad.  Life  gives  the  lie  to  that 
old  story — always  has,  always  will  do.  If  you  are  a  cheat  or 
a  profligate,  or  a  prodigal,  you  may  live  in  luxury  and  travel 
as  far  as  the  sun,  but  if  you  are  a  poor  devil  staying  at  home 
and  working  your  fingers  to  the  bone  you'll  get  thrown  out 
into  the  road.  But  what's  the  good  of  talking?  The  evil 
day  is  coming.     Let  it  come !  " 

Never  before  had  Christian  Christiansson  felt  so  little  and 
so  mean.  The  sources  of  pride  were  dry  in  him  and  he  was 
broug'ht  very  low  in  his  own  esteem.  In  the  presence  of  the 
brother  who  had  borne  his  burdens  and  broken  down  under 
them  he  saw  himself  as  an  abject  and  pitiful  thing.  He  could 
not  raise  his  head,  for  he  felt  as  if  his  shame  were  written  on 
his  forehead,  but  he  struggled  to  say  something,  and  the  only 
words  that  came  to  him  seemed  to  scorch  his  tongue  and 
parch  his  throat. 

"  I  can  not  dispute  with  you,"  he  said.  "  You've  suffered 
more  than  I  have,  and  no  doubt  your  present  troubles  are  the 
legacy  that  was  left  to  you  by  the  prodigal  brother  your 
mother  was  talking  about." 

Magnus's  manner  changed  instantly  at  the  mention  of  his 
mother.  "  She  was  talking  about  him  again,  was  she  ? "  he 
said. 

"  Does  she  often  talk  of  him  then  ? " 

"  Too  often,  and  she  seems  to  think  of  nothing  else.  He 
was  the  foundation  she  built  her  house  upon,  poor  soul,  and 
it  fell,  but  she  holds  to  him  all  the  same." 

"  God  bless  her !  "  said  Christian  Christiansson  involun- 
tarily. "  God  bless  all  women,  I  say.  They're  always  on  the 
Bide  of  the  sinners  and  the  sufferers.    They'll  get  their  com- 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  371 

pensation  somewhere — they  must," — he  was  thinking  of  to- 
morrow morning. 

"  I  see  no  sign  of  it  in  this  case,"  said  Magnus.  "  She  was 
the  best  mother  to  him  a  man  ever  had,  and  he  knew  it,  but 
he  repaid  her  with  neglect  and  contempt." 

"Contempt?" 

"  What  else  would  you  call  it  ?  He  lived  five  years  abroad 
and  wrote  to  her  only  once  in  all  that  time.  Yet  every  night 
she  used  to  stand  outside  the  door  until  the  post  passed, 
winter  and  summer,  dry  or  fine,  waiting  for  the  letter  that 
never  came." 

Christian  Christiansson  felt  as  if  his  very  soul  were  shriv- 
eling up  with  shame. 

"  She  forgave  him  for  that,  though,  and  when  he  died — you 
know  how  he  died,  everybody  knows  it — she  thought  that  all 
he  had  been  trying  to  do  when  he  fell  into  that  foul  dis- 
honor was  to  get  money  enough  to  come  back  home  and  make 
amends." 

"  She  thought  that,  did  she? " 

"  She  still  thinks  it." 

Christian  Christiansson  had  a  sense  of  hysterical  oppres- 
sion at  his  heart.  Again  he  wanted  to  tell  all,  and  he  dared 
not.  "But  if  it  had  been  true,"  he  said — "  I  don't  say  it  was, 
but  if  it  had  been — if  your  brother  had  really  been  trying 
for  years  to  make  money  solely  in  order  to  wipe  out  the  debts 
he  had  left  behind  him — if  he  had  come  home  wath  the  for- 
tune in  his  hands " 

Magnus's  dark  face  darkened  ominously,  and  bringing  his 
great  fist  down  on  to  the  table  he  said,  "  There  would  have 
been  a  curse  on  every  coin  of  it,  and  I  should  have  flung  it 
in  his  face." 

Christian  Christiansson  did  not  ask  him  why.  He  knew 
too  well  what  Magnus  meant.  In  an  instant,  by  such  a  flash 
of  the  lightning  of  the  mind  as  must  come  to  the  guilty  soul 
on  the  Day  of  Judgment,  the  past  of  his  life  lay  open  before 
him,  and  the  most  awful  fact  of  it  stood  out  with  naked  vivid- 
ness— the  desecration  of  his  wife's  grave. 

It  was  impossible  to  plead  that  this  had  been  only  the  act 
of  a  moment;  that  he  had  repented  it  a  thousand  times  with 
bitter  tears ;  that  he  had  derived  no  profit  or  advantage  from 


372  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

it,  and  had  endured  for  ten  years  its  fearful  penalty  in  the 
death  of  his  identity.  Again  and  again  he  had  soothed  him- 
self with  such  excuses,  but  he  could  not  cheat  his  conscience 
now.  Why  was  he  Christian  Christiansson  ?  How  had  it 
come  to  pass  that  he  had  two  hundred  thousand  crowns  in 
his  pocket  and  that  his  works  were  knowTi  all  over  the 
world  ? 

All  the  miserable  sophistry  and  false  reasoning  which  had 
made  him  what  he  was,  the  owner  of  fame  and  fortune,  had 
been  riddled  through  and  through  by  Magnus's  terrible  words. 
All  the  mocking  vanity  which  had  lured  him  onward  to  that 
hour  with  promises  of  the  great  surprise,  the  great  denoue- 
ment, when  he  should  say,  "  See,  I  am  here;  I  have  justified 
all  expectations,"  lay  stark  and  dead  and  cold. 

No,  he  could  not  reveal  himself  to  his  family  to-morrow 
morning.  He  could  not  reveal  himself  at  all.  Having  once 
become  Christian  Christiansson,  he  could  never  again  be 
known  as  Oscar  Stephenson.  Thus  did  the  dead  punish  him, 
and  the  desecration  of  his  wife's  grave  had  but  rendered  the 
vow  he  made  to  himself  perpetual  and  registered  the  oath  he 
made  to  her  in  heaven. 

Christian  Christiansson  was  feeling  as  if  all  the  world  had 
gone  away  from  him  when  Anna  came  out  of  the  guest-room, 
saying : 

"  There,  sir !  Your  room  is  ready  and  you  can  go  to  bed 
at  any  time." 

Magnus  got  up  to  go  to  the  elt-house  to  mix  the  mash  for 
the  pony,  and  then  mother  and  son  were  together  again. 


IV 

In  the  confusion  of  that  heart-quelling  moment  he  was 
asking  himself  how  he  could  carry  out  his  plan  of  rescuing 
his  family  from  their  misfortunes  if  he  could  not  tell  them 
who  he  was,  and  how  he  could  claim  his  daughter  and  take 
her  away  with  him,  if  he  could  not  say,  "  I  am  her  father, 
she  is  mine,"  when  chance  and  a  commonplace  word — those 
twin  sisters  of  invention  and  wisdom — showed  him  what  he 
was  to  do. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  373 

"  I  shall  want  to  be  awakened  early  in  the  morning,  land- 
lady, for  I  suppose  the  Sheriff  will  come  soon." 

"The  Sheriff,  sir?" 

"  I've  just  been  telling  your  son  that  I  intend  to  bid  for 
your  farm  at  the  auction  to-morrow  morning." 

"  So  that  was  what  you  had  to  do  at  the  end  of  your 
journey  ? " 

"  Yes,  it  was  what  I  had  to  do,  landlady." 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  then  asked,  "What 
can  a  gentleman  like  you  want  with  a  farm  like  this? " 

lie  did  not  reply,  so  she  said,  "  You  can  not  think  of  living 
in  such  a  lonesome  place  as  Thingvellir." 

Still  he  did  not  speak,  and  she  said  again,  "  You  might  let 
the  farm  certainly,  but  it  is  hungry  land,  I  assure  you,  and 
everything  depends  on  how  you  work  it." 

She  busied  herself  about  the  table  as  if  trying  to  find 
something  to  do.  "  My  son,"  she  said,  "  is  the  only  one  who 
has  ever  been  able  to  work  it  properly,  and  if  he  has  got  into 
difficulties  at  last  it  wasn't  his  fault,  for  there  isn't  a  man  in 
Iceland  who  would  have  been  able  to  keep  his  head  above 
water." 

She  waited  for  him  to  say  something,  but  he  gave  no  sign. 
"  His  difficulties  are  not  so  very  serious,  either.  Eight  thou- 
sand crowns  arrears  of  interest — that  is  all,  in  sixteen  years, 
sir." 

Again  she  waited,  but  he  was  still  silent.  "  When  the 
Sheriff  went  off  this  evening,  he  said  if  my  son  could  find  the 
money  before  nine  o'clock  to-morrow  morning,  he  wouldn't  go 
on  with  the  auction." 

Christian  Christiansson  had  rested  his  head  on  his  hand 
and  seemed  to  be  listening  intently. 

"  If  my  son  could  only  find  somebody  to  lend  him  the 
money " 

There  was  a  ring  of  appeal  in  her  voice  which  startled 
herself,  for  she  stopped,  and  looking  nervously  round  at  the 
stranger,  said : 

"  I'm  sure  he  would  never  regret  it,  sir.  Magnus  would 
work  his  fingers  to  the  bone  to  repay  every  penny.  He  has 
always  been  a  boy  like  that,  and  with  better  seasons  and  a 
little  luck " 


374  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

It  was  then  that  the  new  scheme  came  to  Christian 
Christiansson  and  he  covered  his  face  with  his  hand  to  think 
of  it,  whereupon  Anna,  mistaking  the  meaning  of  the  altered 
gesture,  faltered  and  began  again. 

"  I'm  taking  a  great  liberty,  sir,  but  I'm  not  thinking  of 
myself — I'm  thinking  of  my  son.  In  one  sense  I'm  to  blame 
for  all  that  has  happened  to  him.  He  doesn't  know  it  and  I 
daren't  tell  him,  but  I  am." 

Christian  Christiansson  looked  up  at  her. 

"  It  was  all  my  fault  that  his  father  took  the  mortgage." 

"  Your  fault  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sii-.  My  husband  loved  the  poor  boy  who  is  gone, 
but  he  was  the  Governor  of  Iceland  and  every  eye  was  on  him 
to  see  that  he  kept  his  own  house  in  order,  and  but  for  me  he 
might  have  let  the  law  take  its  course.  I  pleaded  and  prayed 
with  him,  thinking  that  we  ourselves  would  be  the  ones  to 
suffer.  But  I  only  ruined  one  son  in  trying  to  save  the  other 
— and  I  didn't  save  him." 

Christian  Christiansson  dropped  his  head,  for  the  waters 
of  bitterness  were  falling  over  him  in  a  flood,  and  Anna, 
thinking  she  had  touched  him,  went  on  more  eagerly : 

"  Then  there's  the  girl,  sir,  my  granddaughter.  You've 
seen  her  yourself,  and  you'll  say  she  doesn't  look  like  a  ser- 
vant, but  if  the  auction  comes  off  she'll  have  to  go  out  to 
service.  They  treat  girls  shamefully  in  some  farmhouses, 
and  my  son  can  not  bear  the  thought  of  it.  Neither  can  I, 
for  I  can't  help  thinking  of  her  father.  Whatever  else  he 
may  have  been  he  was  a  gentleman,  and  to  think  of  his 
daughter  being  a  drudge  to  somebody " 

Anna's  voice  was  faltering  again,  but  after  a  moment  she 
went  on  bravely. 

"  As  for  myself,  I'm  an  old  woman,  and  a  little  misfortune 
more  or  less  doesn't  matter  to  me  now.  My  time  is  short  in 
any  case,  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  go  when  I'm  called.  Most  of 
my  loved  ones  are  gone  already — my  son  and  my  grand- 
daughter are  all  that  are  left — and  if  I  could  feel  that  I  was 
leaving  them  happy  and  comfortable " 

Christian  Christiansson  could  bear  no  more.  "  Land- 
lady," he  said,  '^  I  had  set  my  heart  on  buying  the  farm — ■ 
t  had  a  particular  reason  for  wishing  to  buy  it — but  instead 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  375 

of  doing  so  I'll  lend  your  son  the  money  to  pay  the  in- 
terest." 

Anna's  eyes  opened  wide  in  astonishment,  and  now  that 
her  prayer  was  answered  her  breath  seemed  to  be  suspended. 
"You  will,  sir?"  she  said. 

"  I  will,  on  one  condition." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  the  condition,  let  me  go  and  tell  him." 

"My  condition  is  that  you  give  me  the  girl  to  adopt  as 
my  daughter." 

"Ah!" 

"I'm  a  lonely  person,  too,  though  I'm  not  so  old  as  you 
are,  and  when  I'm  in  England  I  haven't  wife  or  child  or 
mother  or  brother  to  share  my  life  with  me.  The  girl's  sweet 
face  would  be  a  great  comfort  to  me  there,  and  I'm  ready  to 
pay  this  interest  if  you  are  willing  to  let  her  go." 

The  light  had  died  out  of  Anna's  eyes — her  head  was 
down, 

"  I  should  give  you  every  guarantee  that  she  would  be 
taken  care  of.  I  am  rich,  as  men  of  my  class  go,  and  she 
should  want  for  nothing." 

"  But  I  didn't  think  your  condition  would  be  like  that, 
sir,"  said  Anna. 

"  Why  not  ?  Are  you  thinking  of  the  girl  or  of  yourself, 
landlady?" 

"  I  am  thinking  of  my  son.  No  man  was  ever  so  wrapped 
up  in  a  child.  He  has  had  her  nearly  all  her  life,  and  he  is 
very,  very  fond  of  her.  When  she  was  little  and  the  snow 
was  deep  as  it  is  to-day  he  used  to  take  her  to  school  on  his 
shoulder,  and  at  night  when  she  was  sleepy  he  would  carry 
her  in  his  arms  to  bed.  If  she  were  his  own  he  could  not 
love  her  more  dearly.  It  is  like  fatherhood  to  him,  and  he 
will  never  be  a  father  now,  because " 

Anna  hesitated  as  if  trying  to  say  something  which  she 
was  afraid  to  say,  and  then  through  her  gathering  tears  she 
blurted   out  her  secret. 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  sir,  he  cared  for  her  mother,  but 
gave  her  up  to  somebody  else  and  she  died,  and  from  that 
day  forward  all  the  best  years  of  his  life  were  wasted  in  a 
cruel  longing  for  something  to  love.  Then  the  child  came, 
and  it  was  almost  as  if  the  mother  herself  had  sent  her  little 


376  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

one  to  comfort  him.  She  could  not  love  him,  for  she  loved 
the  other  one  to  the  last,  but  the  child  might,  and  she  has — 
God  bless  her,  she  has !  " 

Christian  Christiansson  was  wrung  to  the  heart,  but  he 
struggled  on,  "  So  you  think  he  could  not  part  with  the  girl 
even  for  her  own  welfare  and  happiness  ? " 

"I  don't  say  that,  sir;  and  perhaps  if  it  were  put  to  him 
properly -" 

"  Put  it  yourself,  landlady." 

"  I  daren't !  He  might  suppose  that  I  was  thinking  of 
myself." 

"And  if  he  did,  would  that  be  such  a  serious  matter? 
Can  it  be  nothing  to  him  that  his  mother  will  be  saved  from 
being  homeless  if  no  harm  is  to  come  to  the  girl?  And  no 
harm  shall  come  to  her — you  may  take  my  word  for  that." 

Anna  thought  for  a  moment  and  then  she  said,  "  You 
would  tell  us  where  she  is  to  go,  and  what  she  is  to  do,  and 
how  she  is  to  be  brought  up  ?  '* 

"  Indeed  I  would." 

"  She  might  write  to  us  constantly  and  come  to  see  us 
sometimes,  perhaps  ? " 

"  Certainly  she  might." 

"  After  all,  it  would  just  be  like  going  into  service." 

"  Just." 

"  Only  she  would  be  a  lady,  not  a  servant  ? " 

"  Only  that." 

"  You  would  be  good  to  her  ?  Something  tells  me  you 
would.    And  you  would,  wouldn't  you  ?  " 

"  I  should  be  as  good  to  the  girl  as  if — as  if  I  were  her 
own  father,"  said  Christian  Christiansson. 

Anna  dried  her  eyes  and  said : 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  say,  sir — I  really  don't  know  what 
to  say  to  you." 

"  Say  nothing  to  me — speak  to  your  son,  landlady." 

"  You  will  lend  him  the  money  to  pay  the  interest  im- 
mediately ? " 

"  Immediately." 

"  Eight  thousand  crowns — you  can  find  it  all  by  nine 
O*clock  to-morrow  morning?" 

"  See,"  said  Christian  Christiansson,  taking  the   pocket* 


THE  Puodiual  son  377 

book  out  of  his  breast-pocket,  "  there's  enough  in  this  purse 
to  pay  the  interest  twenty  times  over.  And  I'll  not  lend  the 
money  to  your  son — I'll  give  it  to  him  if  he  will  give  me  the 
girl  instead." 

"  He  will  be  sorry  to  part  with  her,  but  after  all  it  will  be 
one  mouth  less  to  feed,  and  when  I'm  gone  that  will  be 
another,  and  then  perhaps,  having  no  burdens  and  no  em- 
barrassments  " 

"  Speak  to  him — he's  here,"  said  Christian  Christiansson, 
and  just  at  that  moment  Magnus  returned  to  the  hall  carry- 
ing a  wooden  bowl  of  smoking  bran. 

Then  in  a  low  and  trembling  tone,  hardly  daring  to  raise 
her  eyes  to  his  face,  Anna  told  her  son  of  the  stranger's  offer, 
dwelling  chiefly  on  the  advantages  to  himself  when  Elin 
would  be  provided  for,  and  she  herself  would  be  under  the 
earth,  and  he,  no  longer  crippled  by  grinding  debt,  would  be 
able  to  pay  his  way  and  win  back  his  lost  inheritance.  But 
as  she  went  on  her  voice  faltered,  and  her  words  became 
confused,  for  he  was  looking  down  at  her  with  a  lowering 
brow,  and  at  last  she  stopped  altogether,  saying: 

"  I  didn't  mean  any  harm,  Magnus.    I  only  thought " 

"  You  thought  I  could  sacrifice  Elin  to  save  myself, 
mother,"  said  Magnus,  and  at  that  hard  word  Anna  sank  into 
a  chair  and  sobbed. 

Then  Magnus  turned  to  Christian  Christiansson  and  said, 
**  I'm  much  obliged  for  your  offer,  sir,  but  my  niece  is  not 
for  sale." 

With  that  he  was  passing  out  of  the  house,  when  Chris- 
tian Christiansson,  who  was  quivering  from  head  to  foot, 
cried,  "  Wait !  " 

"Well?" 

"You  have  decided  for  yourself  fast  enough — have  you 
thought  of  anybody  else  ?  " 

"  Who  else  is  there  to  think  about  ?  " 

"  Your  mother  for  one.  If  you  refuse  my  offer  and  the 
house  is  sold  over  your  heads  to-morrow  morning,  what  is  to 
become  of  her  ?  " 

Magnus  flushed  as  if  an  invisible  hand  had  smitten  him 
across  the  face. 

"  What  is  to  become  of  the  girl,  too — have  you  thought  of 
25 


378  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

that?  Have  you  a  right  to  send  her  into  service — to  be  a 
drudge  to  somebody  ?  " 

Magnus  was  shuddering  visibly — even  the  bowl  was  trem- 
bling in  his  hands. 

"  No  doubt  you  are  fond  of  the  girl  and  ha  'e  been  good  to 
her,  but  if  she  were  jovi  own  daughter  sLie  would  be  a 
separate  being,  and  in  a  case  like  this  you  would  have  no 
right  to  speak  for  her." 

"  Then  she  shall  speak  for  herself,"  said  Magnus,  and 
putting  the  smoking  bowl  on  the  table  he  crossed  to  the  inner 
door  and  cried  in  an  agitated  voice,  "  Elin !    Elin !    Elin !  " 

In  a  moment  the  girl  came  running  into  the  room  with  a 
look  of  alarm,  saying,  "  What  is  it  ?  Has  anything  hap- 
pened ? " 

"  Listen ! "  said  Magnus,  and  Christian  Christiansson 
could  see  that  though  his  voice  shook  as  if  his  soul  were 
shaken  he  was  trying  to  speak  calmly.  "  This  gentleman," 
he  said,  "  has  told  your  grandmother  that  he  wishes  to  adopt 
you  as  a  daughter,  and  he  offers  to  pay  my  debts  if  I  am 
"willing  to  let  you  go." 

"  Uncle !  "  cried  the  girl. 

"  I  have  told  him  you  shall  speak  for  yourself,  and  so  you 
shall,  and  whatever  you  decide  to  do  your  grandmother  and 
I  will  agree  to." 

"But,  Uncle!" 

"  Don't  speak  yet,  my  child.  It  is  only  fair  that  you  should 
liear  evei-ything.  Elin,  I  am  a  broken  man  and  I  have  no 
longer  a  home  to  offer  you.  After  the  auction  to-morrow 
morning  I  don't  know  what  is  to  become  of  grandmother 
and  you  and  me,  or  where  we  are  to  go  or  what  roof  is  to 
cover  us.  But  this  gentleman  is  rich,  and  he  promises  to 
provide  for  you  all  your  life,  and  to  give  you  all  you  need  and 
everything  you  could  wish  for.  If  you  stay  with  me  you 
may  suffer  privations,  but  if  you  go  to  him  you  will  never 
know  a  poor  day  again  as  long  as  you  live." 

His  deep  voice  had  all  it  could  do  to  support  itself,  but  he 
tore  up  to  the  end,  and  then  Anna,  whose  eyes  were  filling  as 
fast  as  she  could  wipe  them,  said : 

"Isn't  it  wonderful,  Elin?  Isn't  it  like  a  miracle?  Like 
an  answer  to  your  prayer,  my  child,  just  when  we  were  so 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  379 

low  and  downliearted  ?  The  gentleman  will  satisfy  us  that 
you  are  going  to  a  good  Christian  home  and  that  you  will  be 
properly  brought  up  and  cared  for." 

And  then  Christian  Christiansson  himself,  though  he  could 
scarcely  speak  for  the  contending  emotions  that  shook  him  to 
the  soul,  stepped  forward  and  said: 

"  Let  me  tell  you  who  I  am,  Elin.  We  spoke  of  Christian 
Christiansson  the  composer,  and  you  sang  his  song  to  me  and 
said  you  would  like  to  hear  something  about  him.  I  am 
Christian  Christiansson." 

The  girl  made  a  little  involuntary  cry,  and  his  voice  fal- 
tered for  a  moment. 

"  Yes,  I  am  he,  and  the  story  I  told  you  was  the  story  of 
my  own  unhappy  life,  only — I  have  lost  my  daughter  since  I 
wrote  that  song,  and  now  I  am  quite  alone.  Will  you  not 
come  and  take  her  place,  my  child?  You  shall  be  just  the 
same  to  me  as  my  own  daughter,  and  you  shall  never  know 
the  difference.  You  will  return  with  me  to  England  and  live 
my  life,  and  whatever  I  do  you  shall  do,  and  wherever  I  go 
you  shall  go  also," 

"  Think  of  that,  Elin !  "  said  Anna.  "  You  love  music — 
you  take  after  your  poor  father  that  way — and  you  will  travel 
about  just  as  your  dear  mother  used  to  do!  " 

"  It  would  be  beautiful !  "  said  Elin. 

She  had  been  standing  all  this  time  by  the  table  with  one 
hand  resting  lightly  upon  it,  while  her  sweet  face  reflected  the 
changing  lights  of  alarm  and  pain  and  surprise  and  joy. 

"  I  can't  think  of  anything  in  the  world  I  should  love  so 
much,  but — I  can  not,  I  must  not." 

"  Elin !  " 

"  Grandma,  didn't  you  tell  me  yourself  when  I  came  here 
long  ago,  and  you  put  me  to  bed  the  first  time,  that  I  was 
never  to  leave  Uncle  Magnus,  and  if  anybody  ever  came  to 
take  me  away  I  was  not  to  go?  I  was  a  little  mite,  but  I  gave 
you  my  word,  I  remember,  and  I  am  going  to  keep  it." 

"  But  I  was  thinking  of  somebody  else  then,  Elin.  I 
couldn't  know  that  this  gentleman  would  come — at  a  time 
like  this,  too " 

"  But  that  makes  no  difference,  grandma.  Besides,  if  I 
were  to  go  to  this  gentleman  and  he  were  to  treat  me  as  if  I 


380  THE    PEODIGAL    SON 

were  his  own  daughter,  I  should  have  to  think  of  him  as  if 
he  were  my  own  father.  Would  you  like  that,  grandma? 
And  would  Uncle  Magnus  like  it  ? " 

"  We  should  sacrifice  ourselves,  honey,  we  should  sacrifice 
ourselves  that  you  might  be  well  off  and  happy." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  be  well  off  if  you  and  Uncle  Magnus 
are  going  to  be  poor.  And  I  shouldn't  be  happy  at  all — I 
should  be  miserable." 

"  Oh,  dear !  Oh,  dear !  "  moaned  Anna,  unable  to  say  more. 
And  then  the  girl  turned  with  a  smile  to  Christian  Chris- 
tiansson,  who  was  throbbing  with  pride  and  pain,  and  she 
said: 

"  It  is  very,  very  good  of  you,  sir,  and  there  isn't  another 
girl  in  the  world  who  wouldn't  be  glad  to  go;  but  I  can't, 
you  must  see  yourself  I  can't — I  must  stay  with  my  uncle. 
Grandma  is  going  to  do  so,  and  why  shouldn't  I  ?  " 

"He  would  be  better  without  either  of  us,  Elin,"  said 
Anna. 

"  Don't  say  that,  grandma." 

"  I  do  say  it,  my  child,  and  if  you  only  knew  how  cruel 
the  world  is " 

"  But  God  isn't,  and  He  will  not  separate  us  now  after  we 
have  been  together  so  long.  You  said  so  yourself,  you  know, 
when  I  talked  of  going  into  service.  You  said  He  would 
find  another  way,  and  He  will — I'm  sure  He  will." 

It  wrung  Anna's  heart  to  have  her  own  teaching  coming 
back  to  reproach  her,  yet  thinking  of  Magnus  she  made  one 
more  effort.  "  But  don't  you  see,  dear,  that  if  you  stay  with 
Uncle  Magnus  he  will  lose  the  land,  whereas  if  you  go  with 
this  gentleman  he  will  be  able  to  keep  it  ? " 

Then  the  innocent  young  face  which  had  been  so  full  of 
beautiful  trust  in  the  greatness  and  the  goodness  of  God  to 
triumph  over  all  perils  and  privations  clouded  over  for  one 
moment,  and  she  said,  "  Do  you  want  me  to  go,  grandma  ? 
And  does  Uncle  Magnus  want  it  ? " 

Neither  of  them  answered  her,  and  she  looked  from  one  to 
the  other — Anna  brushing  her  eyes  with  the  back  of  her 
wrinkled  hand,  and  Magnus  standing  motionless  with  a  white 
face  broken  up  like  the  melting  snow — and  then  the  cruel 
swelliug  in  the  girl's  heart  subsided  and  her  eyes  shone  like 
the  sun. 


THE    TRODIGAL    SON  381 

"I  know  you  don't,"  she  answered  herself.  "You  are  only 
thinking  about  me." 

And  then  the  brave  little  soul  tossed  up  her  head  with  a 
proud  look  and  said,  "  As  for  the  land — if  it  comes  to  losing 
that  or  losing  me,  I  know  what  Uncle  Magnus  will  say.  He 
will  say — I  hnow  he  will — *  Let  me  keep  my  little  Elin  and 
the  land — the  land  may  go! '  " 

"  And  so  I  do,  my  darling,"  cried  Magnus,  and  he  opened 
his  great  arms  to  her,  and  she  ran  into  them  and  was  gathered 
to  his  breast. 

At  the  next  moment  Anna  had  joined  them  and  Magnus 
had  put  his  arms  around  both,  and  it  was  just  as  if  they  had 
conquered  a  great  temptation — as  if  some  dark  shadow  which 
had  threatened  to  separate  them  had  passed  away — for  they 
were  clinging  together  and  crying  like  children. 

Christian  Christiansson  stood  aside  for  a  moment  and 
looked  on  at  their  happiness,  feeling  himself  without  part  or 
lot  in  it,  and  then,  fearing  that  he  might  cry  out  and  betray 
himself  or  break  down  altogether,  he  turned  away  and  fled 
into  the  guest-room. 


He  threw  himself  face  downward  on  the  bed,  and  the 
waters  of  Marah  went  over  and  over  him.  Sight  of  the  hap- 
piness he  had  lost  the  right  to  claim  was  the  hardest 
experience  that  had  yet  come  to  him,  and  he  wept  bitterly. 
"  My  child !  My  dear,  dear  child !  "  he  had  wanted  to  cry,  but 
those  were  words  of  proud  endearment  which  he  might  never 
use  except  in  the  voiceless  chambers  of  his  empty  heart. 

But  this  mood  lasted  only  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  a 
fierce  and  almost  savage  jealousy  took  possession  of  him,  and 
he  dried  his  eyes  and  sat  up  in  contempt  of  his  own  weak- 
ness. What  right  had  any  one  to  rob  him  of  his  child? 
Elin  was  flesh  of  his  flesh,  and  no  man  should  take  her  away. 
Even  the  law  would  recognize  his  right  to  his  own  offspring. 
He  had  merely  to  say  to  the  Sheriff,  "  She  is  mine,"  and  the 
Sheriff  would  have  no  choice  but  to  deliver  her  up  to  him. 

Then  calmer  moments  came,  and  he  saw  that  he  could 


382  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

only  assert  his  legal  rig'lit  to  his  daughter  by  disclosing  his 
identity,  and  that  was  out  of  the  question.  And  even  if  it 
were  possible  to  carry  his  daughter  away  by  force,  it  would 
be  a  poor  triumph  to  take  her  body  if  he  could  not  also  take 
her  soul.  Every  man  wished  his  children  to  love  him,  and 
unless  Elin  could  love  her  father,  what  was  the  good  of 
claiming'  her? 

He  opened  his  eyes  to  calm  the  deafening  tumult  of  his 
conflicting  thoughts,  and  saw  a  little  faded  photograph  in  a 
stand  on  a  table  that  stood  beside  the  bed.  It  was  an  old 
photograph  of  Thora,  and  he  remembered  it  immediately,  for 
it  was  the  same  that  in  the  better  time  belonged  to  Aunt 
Margret  and  stood  on  the  drawers  beside  her  door.  He  took 
it  up  in  his  shaking  hand  and  held  the  candle  to  look  at  it, 
and  then,  in  a  moment,  by  that  magic  the  Almighty  knows, 
he  was  back  with  Thora  in  the  birth-room  at  Government 
House,  and  she  was  saying,  in  the  tremulous  joy  of  her  young 
motherhood,  "  Kiss  me,  Oscar !  Put  your  arms  about  both 
of  us,  dearest !     That  way — so !  " 

Something  of  the  tenderness  of  Thora's  sweet  heart  re- 
turned to  him  with  that  haunting  memory,  and  along  with  it 
came  a  new  and  thrilling  thought.  If  Elin  belonged  to  him 
by  right  of  Nature,  then  Nature  herself  would  speak  for  him. 
He  had  only  to  say  to  her,  "I  am  your  father;  you  are  my 
daughter,"  and  she  would  come  to  him — she  could  not  help 
herself — because  Nature  is  a  mighty  thing  and  none  of  us 
can  resist  the  mysterious  call  that  comes  to  our  blood  from 
the  blood  that  gave  us  birth ! 

He  would  do  so ;  he  would  find  the  girl  alone  and  speak  to 
her;  he  would  whisper  the  secret  of  his  life  in  the  ear  of  his 
own  child,  and  then  the  marvelous  Mother  of  us  all  would 
do  the  rest. 

When  he  returned  to  the  hall,  Elin  was  shaking  out  the 
cloth  and  removing  the  last  of  the  supper  things — all  except 
the  bottle  and  glasses,  which  she  left  on  the  table.  "  It  must 
be  now,"  he  thought,  and  though  his  heart  quailed  at  coming 
to  this  last  throw  in  the  game  he  had  played  for  life  and 
love,  he  put  his  fortune  to  the  test. 

"  It  was  very  brave  of  you,  my  child,"  he  said,  "  to  choose 
poverty  when  you  might  have  chosen  wealth.     But  you  did 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  383 

well,  for  wealth  is  only  of  this  world's  making-,  and  the  angel 
that  brings  us  happiness  docs  not  ask  us  if  we  are  poor  or 
rich." 

His  voice  faltered  when  he  came  to  what  he  had  to  say 
next,  but  he  rallied  and  went  on : 

"  It  was  very  sweet  of  you,  too,  to  remain  with  your  uncle 
and  your  grandmother,  instead  of  coming  to  a  stranger,  for 
being  of  your  own  flesh  and  blood  they  have  naturally  the 
first  claim  upon  you.  But  if — if,  instead  of  Christian  Chris- 
tiansson,  I  had  been  your  own  father,  would  you — would  you 
have  come  to  me  then  ? " 

Elin  did  not  answer  him  immediately,  and  he  looked  stead- 
fastly into  her  face,  feeling  that  all  hope  of  happiness  for 
the  remainder  of  his  life  hung  on  her  reply. 

"Would  you?" 

The  sweet  young  face  looked  troubled  for  a  moment,  and 
then  slowly — very  slowly  and  sadly — Elin  shook  her  head. 

He  felt  like  a  man  who  had  been  sentenced  to  death,  but 
while  his  face  clouded  and  fell,  the  girl's  rose  and  became 
beautifully  calm. 

"  I  don't  see  how  that  could  make  any  difference,"  she  said. 
"  I  couldn't  feel  as  if  you  were  my  father  unless  I  had  known 
you  as  long  as  I  could  remember,  and  longer  even  than  that. 
What  I  call  a  father  is  one  who  has  nursed  you  on  his  knee 
when  you  were  a  little  thing,  and  kissed  you  and  coaxed  you 
when  you  were  sick,  and  thought  of  you  and  cared  for  you 
always,  not  one  who  has  been  away  from  you  all  your  life, 
who  has  never  cared  for  you  at  all,  and  whom  you  wouldn't 
know  if  you  met  him  in  the  road." 

"  But  don't  you  feel,  dear,  that  there  is  something  in  the 
relation  of  a  child  to  her  father,  however  he  may  have  neg- 
lected her — something  intimate  and  sacred — something  she 
can  never  know  in  her  relation  to  anybody  else,  however 
much  he  may  have  done  for  her — don't  you  feel  that,  Elin  ?  '^ 

Again  the  girl  thought  for  a  moment,  and  again  she  shook 
iier  head. 

"  But  if  I  were  to  say  to  you,  *  My  child,  my  dear,  dear 
child,  I  may  have  done  nothing  for  you,  but  still  I  am  your 
father,  and  you  are  the  only  one  who  is  left  to  me  now,  and  I 
want  you  to  come  to  me  and  be  my  daughter,  and  we  shall 


384  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

never  be  parted  again ' — if  I  were  to  say  that  to  you,  would 
you  still  hold  to  your  uncle  ? " 

The  tremulous  fervor  with  which  he  spoke  these  imploring 
words  brought  tears  to  the  girl's  eyes,  but  her  heart  stood  firm 
and  strong. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  couldn't  help  it,  because  Uncle  Magnus 
has  been  my  real  father  after  all." 

It  was  all  over.  His  last  hold  of  the  girl  was  lost.  Again 
he  felt  as  if  the  world  had  gone  away  from  him,  as  if  the 
dark  column  of  hope  which  had  shown  its  bright  face  for  a 
moment  had  turned  again,  and  now  all  was  hopeless  darkness- 
He  had  thought  Nature  would  speak  to  the  girl,  but  it  had 
not  spoken.  Nature  was  a  great,  inexorable  instrument  in 
the  hand  of  God,  and  God's  hand  was  on  him.  As  he  had 
done,  so  he  was  heing  done  hy — as  he  had  taken  the  love  of 
Thora  from  Magnus,  so  Magnus,  after  many  years,  had  taken 
the  love  of  Elin  from  him.  It  was  right,  it  was  inevitable, 
and  he  must  bow  his  head  in  speechless  submission  before 
the  justice  and  the  vengeance  of  God ! 

He  must  leave  the  house  as  he  had  come  to  it,  not  only 
without  revealing  himself  to  his  mother  and  brother,  but  also 
without  his  child.  It  would  be  the  bitterest  moment  of  his 
life,  but  he  must  meet  it  and  go  on. 

"  You  are  quite  right,  my  dear — quite  right,"  he  said. 
*'  A  child's  love  is  like  a  flower  in  the  window — it  cannot 
grow  without  somebody  to  water  it.  Your  uncle  has  done 
eveiything  for  you,  and  he  is  entitled  to  all  your  affection. 
It  wouldn't  be  fair  if  3'our  father  could  come  back,  after  all 
these  years,  and  take  you  away  from  him.  Cling  to  him, 
Elin,  love  him,  and  comfort  him,  and  may  God  bless  you  for 
your  loyalty  and  trust !  " 

He  had  tried  to  speak  bravely,  but  his  voice  broke  and  he 
stopped.    After  a  moment  he  said  calmly: 

"  Can  you  give  me  pen  and  ink  and  a  sheet  of  writing- 
paper?  " 

She  brought  them  instantly,  and  he  sat  at  the  table  and 
wrote  a  line  or  two.  Then  he  took  out  his  pocket-book, 
opened  it,  and  put  the  paper  inside  of  it,  and  closed  it  up 
again. 

"  Elin,  will  you  do  me  a  great  favor  ? " 


THE    PEODIGAL    SON  385 

**  Oh  yes,  sir,"  said  the  girl. 

"  It  is  late,  and  I've  had  a  long  day,  and  I  may  not  be 
■up  when  the  auction  begins  in  the  morning — ^will  you  take 
this  pocket-book  and  give  it  to  the  Sheriff  the  moment  he 
arrives  ? " 

"  With  pleasure,  sir." 

"  You  will  not  open  it  or  show  it  to  anybody  else,  but  you 
will  carry  it  to  your  room  at  once  and  put  it  under  your 
pillow,  and  to-morrow  morning  you  will  be  up  early  and  give 
it  to  the  Sheriff  before  he  begins  the  sale — will  you  do  this 
for  me,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  will,  sir." 

"  Thank  you !  And  now  you  must  go  to  bed.  Good-by, 
my  child !  " 

"But  I'll  see  you  in  the  morning,  sir?" 

"  Who  can  say  ?  We  may  both  have  other  things  to  think 
about  by  that  time,  so  we  had  better  say  good-by  to  each 
other  now." 

"  But  am  I  not  to  see  you  again  ? " 

"  Who  can  say  that  either !  I  have  come  a  long  way,  you 
know,  and  now  I  may  have  to  go — "  he  hesitated,  and  then 
turning  away  he  said,  "  I  may  have  to  go  still  farther." 

"  You  have  been  so  kind  to  me,  sir — I  am  sorry  I  can  not 
go  with  you." 

"  Ah,  God  forbid ! — I  mean,  you  can  not — I  see  you  can 
not!  But  if  you  could  have  done  so  I  should  have  been 
so  fond  of  you,  and  we  should  have  been  such  good  friends 
together." 

"  I  shall  never  forget  you,  sir." 

"  Nor  I  you.  I  shall  always  think  of  the  brave  little  girl 
I  met  once — only  once — and  then  could  see  no  more." 

"  You  are  only  a  stranger  to  me,  sir,  but — but " 

"  Yes,  I  am  only  a  stranger  to  you,  my  child,  but  we  have 
come  together  on  the  great  ocean  of  life,  and  now — now  we 
must  say  good-by  and  part." 

"Good-by,  sir!" 

"  Good-by,  little  girl,  and  God  bless  you  I  " 

The  girl  stepped  to  her  bedroom  door  and  then  stopped 
and  turned  and  looked  back  at  him.  Her  eyes  were  full — she 
knew  not  why.  Nature  was  saying  something  to  her  at  last — 
she  knew  not  what. 


386  THE    TRODIGAL    SON 

He  was  looking  after  her  with  all  his  hungry  soul  in  his 
quivering  face,  and  when  she  turned  he  stretched  out  his 
arms  to  her. 

"  Elin !  "  he  whispered,  and  she  came  back  to  him,  and  he 
folded  her  to  his  heart  and  kissed  her  on  the  foi-ehead  and  on 
the  lips.  Ah,  sweet,  soft,  wai-m  lips,  he  felt  them  to  the 
last! 

A  mist  floated  before  his  eyes;  he  heard  footsteps  going 
away  from  him;  he  heard  a  door  open  and  close,  and  then — 
his  child  was  gone. 


Christian  Christiansson  was  alone.  He  felt  that  he  had 
come  to  the  lees  of  his  life  and  saw  nothing  but  a  blank 
where  he  might  crawl  to  die.  Could  he  go  back  to  Reykjavik  ? 
That  was  impossible,  for  the  Minister  and  his  people  would 
be  preparing  their  banquet  in  honor  of  his  visit,  and  to  go 
through  such  rejoicing  would  be  a  scorching  martyrdom  at 
which  the  devil  himself  would  laugh.  Could  he  return  to 
England  and  resume  his  old  life  as  the  unknown  composer? 
That  was  impossible  also,  for  he  could  never  write  as  he  had 
written  before,  because  the  old  impulse  was  gone,  the  fire 
was  burnt  out,  the  life  that  had  inspired  him  was  dead,  and 
because  the  foundations  of  his  fame  were  broken  up  by  the 
new  consciousness  that  he  had  no  right  to  it,  by  the  sense 
that  his  career  and  all  that  had  come  of  it  had  been  built 
on  the  desecration  of  his  wife's  grave,  and  by  the  certainty 
that  his  success  had  been  paid  for  as  by  the  sweat  of  his 
very  soul. 

What  then  was  before  him?  Old  age?  What  was  old 
age  without  friends,  without  children,  without  love,  without 
respect  and  with  memorj' — that  last  joy  of  a  man's  declin- 
ing days — like  a  poisoned  river  running  through  a  wasted 
land  ? 

Was  there  nothing  before  him  then?  Yes,  there  was  one 
thing — one  only — and  as  he  lay  in  that  room  alone  with  his 
head  over  his  hands  on  the  table,  he  had  the  trembling,  thrill- 
ing, palpitating  sense  of  supernatural  wings  hovering  above 
him,  and  of  an  awful  voice  that  seemed  to  say,  "  The  Wages 
OF  SiK  IS  Death  !  " 


THE    PEODIGAL    SON  387 

At  that  moment  he  became  aware  of  other  voices — more 
human  and  homely  voices — murmuring  about  him,  and  one 
of  them  said,  "  He  has  fallen  asleep,  poor  gentleman,"  and 
another,  "  lie  has  drunk  too  much,  perhaps."  Then  a  hand 
touched  him  on  the  shoulder  and  somebody  cried  in  his  ear : 

"Hadn't  you  better  go  to  bed,  sir?" 

It  was  his  mother,  with  Magnus  behind  her,  and  looking  at 
both  he  could  see  that  they  supposed  he  was  intoxicated.  In 
the  wild  laboring  of  heart  and  brain,  it  suited  him  that  they 
should  continue  to  think  so,  and  indeed  the  strain  of  nerve 
had  been  so  hard  that  when  he  rose  to  his  feet  he  staggered 
like  a  drunken  man. 

"  Heigho !  What's  this  ?  "  he  laughed.  "  Your  brennie-vin 
must  be  pretty  heady,  landlady.  But  no  matter !  It  will  be 
a  good  nightcap  and  make  me  sleep  the  sounder.  I'm  tired, 
very  tired,  but  I'm  going  to  have  a  long  sleep  at  last — a  long, 
long  sleep  at  last." 

"  But  to-morrow  will  be  New  Year's  Day,"  said  Anna. 
"  The  bells  ring  at  daybreak,  and  the  Sheriff  will  be  here 
soon  after,  so  you'll  have  to  be  stirring  early  if  you  want  to 
be  ready  for  the  auction." 

"  Why,  so  I  shall — I  had  forgotten  all  about  it — and  since 
we  can  not  agree  about  the  girl  I  must  buy  the  farm  what- 
ever happens.  I  told  you  I  wanted  it  for  a  particular 
purpose,  but  I  didn't  say  what  it  was.  It's  my  secret,  land- 
lady, but  I  don't  mind  telling  you.  I  want  it  for  my 
mother." 

"  Your  mother  ?  " 

"  That's  so !  She  was  born  in  these  parts,  and  the  poor  old 
thing  would  like  to  end  her  days  here." 

"  So  she  tells  you  to  buy  up  my  farmstead?" 

"  Not  she !  She  doesn't  know  anything  about  it.  That's 
t^  be  my  surprise.  I've  not  been  a  good  son,  but  when  I 
go  away  never  to  come  back  again  I  want  to  feel  that  the 
dear  old  soul  is  happy  and  comfortable  and  has  a  roof  to 
cover  her." 

He  laughed,  with  the  same  sense  as  before  of  an  hysterical 
oppression  of  the  heart,  and  then  turned  to  Magnus  and 
said : 

"  Sorry  to  buy  your  house  over  your  head,  but  business 


3SS  THE    PRODIGAL    SOX 

is  business,  you  know,  and  anybody  is  at  liberty  to  bid  who 
has  money  to  pay." 

Magnus  moved  aside  with  a  contemptuous  expression. 

"  Don't  look  so  glum,  my  man.  You  think  you've  been 
badly  treated  and  perhaps  you  have,  but  you're  the  luckiest 
m.an  in  Iceland  if  you  ask  me.  You  think  because  you've 
done  well  you  ought  to  be  rewarded,  but  what  right  have  poor 
wretches  like  us  to  expect  reward  in  this  world?  You  think 
because  a  man  is  rich  he  is  to  be  envied,  but  what's  the  use 
of  having  your  pocket  full  if  your  heart  is  empty  ?  And  you 
think  because  Death  kills  the  innocent  and  the  happy  it  is 
a  cruel  monster,  but  there  are  worse  things  than  Death,  and 
Life  is  one  of  them  when  you've  nobody  to  care  whether  you 
live  or  die.  Then  cheer  up,  old  fellow!  You've  got  your 
health  and  your  good  name,  and  your  mother  and  that  sweet 
girl  to  love  and  to  love  you,  so  what  the  devil  have  you  got 
to  complain  of?    Nothing  at  all!" 

Saying  this  with  a  mixture  of  real  emotion  and  its  mock- 
ing make-believe,  a  touch  of  the  boy  came  back  to  him  for  a 
moment  and  he  put  his  arm  across  his  brother's  shoulder  as 
he  used  to  do  in  the  old  days,  but  Magnus  shuddered  and 
shrank  away. 

"  Your  candle  is  burning  in  the  bedroom,  sir,"  said  Anna 
coldly. 

And  then  he  saw  that  his  mother  also  looked  black  at  him, 
as  one  who  had  come  to  turn  them  out  of  house  and  home, 
and  as  one  who  had  tried  to  tempt  the  girl  away  from  them, 
and  as  one  who  could  laugh  at  their  condition  and  have  no 
thought  except  for  himself.  And  thinking  that  this  was  the 
last  he  would  see  of  her;  that  it  was  so  different  from  the 
parting  he  had  expected ;  that  all  hope  of  pardon  and  recon- 
ciliation was  lost;  that  his  mother  would  never  hear  that 
her  lingering  faith  in  her  prodigal  had  been  justified  and 
never  know  that  he  had  been  and  gone,  he  had  as  much  as 
he  could  do  not  to  break  down  and  betray  himself  even  at 
the  end. 

But  gathering  up  his  clothes  which  had  been  drying  by  the 
stove,  he  turned  toward  the  bedroom,  saying  with  another 
laugh — a  laugh  that  wont  to  Anna's  heart  like  a  sword: 

"  Don't  look  60  downhearted,  landlady.    When  things  ara 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  389 

at  their  worst  they  can't  move  without  they  mend.    You've 
had  your  troubles,  but  you  shall  drink  my  health  under  my 
mother's  roof-tree  to-morrow  morning.     Good  night !  " 
And  then  he  reeled  into  the  guest-room. 


VI 

The  stranger  being  gone,  mother  and  son  looked  into  each 
other's  faces.     Then  they  spoken  in  whispers. 

"  Did  you  hear  him  ?  "  said  Anna. 

"  About  his  mother's  roof -tree  ?  "  asked  Magnus. 

"  About  the  auction — about  everything.  The  man  can 
have  no  feeling — no  pity." 

"  None." 

"  '  Business  is  business,'  he  said,  when  he  talked  of  buying 
the  place  over  our  heads.  And  when  he  spoke  of  his  mother 
ending  her  days  here  he  never  once  thought  of  me." 

"  He  never  thought  of  Elin  either.  He  would  have  taken 
the  girl  away  from  us  without  a  moment's  hesitation." 

"  He  would,"  said  Anna.  "  *  There's  enough  in  this  purse/ 
he  said,  *to  pay  your  interest  twenty  times  over.' " 

"Did  he  say  that?" 

"He  did.  He  took  his  pocket-book  out  of  his  breast- 
pocket and " 

"His  breast-pocket,  you  say?" 

"  Yes,  *  and  I'll  give  the  money  to  your  son,'  he  said,  '  if 
he'll  give  me  the  girl  instead.' " 

Anna  talked  on  in  an  innocent,  helpless  way  without  know- 
ing what  bad  work  she  was  doing,  but  suddenly,  mysteriously, 
at  the  mention  of  the  purse  a  change  passed  over  Magnus's 
face  and  it  grew  ugly  with  evil  passions. 

"  He  must  be  rich,"  said  Anna. 

"  Richer  than  anybody  has  a  right  to  be,"  said  Magnus. 

"  Surely  God  can  not  mean  that  anybody  should  be  as  rich 
as  that  while  other  people  are  so  poor." 

"  God !  "  said  Magnus,  and  his  distorted  face  quivered. 

"  If  he  would  only  lend  us  enough  to  satisfy  the  Sheriff  in 
the  morning !  "  said  Anna. 


390  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  What's  the  good  of  expecting  a  man  to  help  us  to  keep 
the  farm  when  he  has  come  to  buy  it  for  himself  ?  " 

"  It's  hard,  though,  cruelly  hard,  to  be  turned  out  of  house 
and  home  by  the  first  person  who  comes  along  with  more 
money." 

"  That's  what  I  was  thinking,"  said  Magnus. 

Down  to  this  moment  Anna  had  only  been  trying  to  sym- 
pathize with  Magnus's  mood,  but  now  something  in  his  tone 
m.ade  her  suspect  that  she  had  awakened  a  devil,  and  she 
looked  at  him  in  terror. 

He  took  up  the  bottle  and  drank ;  he  drank  out  of  the  neck ; 
and  there  was  a  new  devil  in  every  drop.  His  eyes  began  to 
gleam  with  a  feverish  luster,  and  Anna  trembled.  She  re- 
membered that  Magnus  had  not  taken  any  strong  drink  until 
to-day  since  the  day  of  Thora's  funeral,  and  then  she  thought 
of  her  father,  and  a  sensation  of  extreme  cold  crept  over 
her, 

"  Let  us  not  talk  of  it  any  more,"  she  said,  as  she  tried  to 
put  the  bottle  away,  but  Magnus  held  on  to  it. 

Mother  and  son  looked  at  each  other  again,  and  then  Anna 
went  over  to  the  stranger's  door  and  listened. 

"  Has  he  locked  it  ?  "  asked  Magnus. 

"  'No,  I'm  afraid —     No,  no,  he  has  not." 

"What  is  he  doing?" 

"  The  candle  is  out — he  must  be  in  bed  already." 

"  Then,"  said  Magnus,  "  he  has  thrown  himself  down  with- 
oat  undressing  and  the  pocket-book  is  on  him  still." 

"  Magnus,  what  are  you  thinking  of  ?  "  said  Anna — her 
teeth  were  chattering. 

"  Would  it  be  so  very  wicked  ?  " 

"What?" 

"  To  take  as  much  as  would  satisfy  the  Sheriff  in  the 
morning  ? " 

"  Magnus !    I  didn't  mean  that." 

"  He  would  never  miss  it — never  know  it  was  gone — and  it 
would  enable  us  to  keep  the  farm  and  so  save  us  from 
starvation." 

"  Oh,  dear !    What  have  I  done  ?  " 

"  He's  a  prodigal  himself,  it  seems.  Very  well,  let  prodigal 
pay  for  prodigal." 


THE    TRODIGAL    SON  391 

She  could  not  breathe  freely — she  could  only  look  at  Mag- 
nus in  speechless  surprise.  He  took  up  the  bottle  again  and 
gulped  down  the  last  of  the  liquor. 

"  He  has  drunk  a  good  deal — he  will  sleep  heavily — and  he 
won't  awake  until  the  auction  is  over." 

"  Let  us  go  to  bed,"  said  Anna. 

"  Go  yourself,"  he  growled,  for  the  furies  that  march  in 
the  brain  of  the  drunken  man  had  mastered  him. 

"  Magnus,"  said  Anna,  "  if  you  will  not  go  to  bed  I  shall 
stay  up  all  night  with  you." 

Then  the  devil  that  had  changed  Magnus  into  a  cunning, 
savage  beast,  showed  him  what  he  had  to  do. 

"  Very  well,  let  us  go  to  bed,"  he  replied. 

He  bolted  the  outer  door  again  and  raked  out  the  stove, 
while  his  mother  extinguished  the  lamp  and  re-lit  the  can- 
dles. She  thought  the  evil  impulse  that  had  come  to  him  had 
been  conquered,  and  she  talked  of  other  matters. 

"  I've  made  up  Eric's  bed  for  you,  and  you'll  find  every- 
thing comfortable,"  she  said. 

As  she  passed  Elin's  door  she  opened  it  gently  and  held  her 
head  aside  to  listen.  The  sound  of  the  soft  and  measured 
breathing  came  out  to  them  for  a  moment  and  then  the  door 
was  closed  again. 

"  Poor  child !  She  would  lay  her  head  on  her  pillow  full 
of  faith  in  the  miracle  that  is  to  happen  before  to-morrow 
morning.     Of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven !  " 

They  parted  at  the  door  of  the  badstof a,  and  a  few  minutes 
afterward  the  little  house  lay  silent  and  dark  in  the  arms  of 
the  hills  and  on  the  breast  of  the  snow,  but  the  wings  of 
Death  hung  over  it. 


Magnus  did  not  go  to  bed.  He  threw  himself  on  the  eider- 
down and  went  through  a  fierce  fight  with  God  as  represented 
by  God's  vicar,  his  conscience.  A  vision  of  the  pocket-book 
in  the  stranger's  breast-pocket  danced  before  his  dark  heart, 
and  he  told  himself  that  come  what  would  he  must  take 
enough  of  the  stranger's  money  to  pay  the  interest  in  the 
morning.  If  he  did  not  do  so  the  man  would  buy  the  farm- 
stead and  Elin  and  his  mother  would  be  turned  adrift. 


392  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

On  tliis  thought  came  compxinctions.  To  take  the  man's 
money  would  be  to  steal,  and  Magnus  had  never  stolen.  But 
faith  being  already  gone,  morality  followed,  and  he  wrestled 
with  his  conscience  and  overcame  it.  What  he  was  going  to 
do  was  what  men  did  every  day,  only  they  called  it  business, 
and  they  did  it  to  wrong  the  right,  whereas  he  would  do  it  to 
right  the  wrong.  Magnus  marshaled  his  reasons  and  justi- 
fied himself.  Here  was  a  man  so  rich  that  he  would  not  know 
to-morrow  morning  that  he  had  lost  what  was  sufficient  to 
make  his  dear  ones  happy.  That  man  was  going  to  expose 
them  to  poverty  and  destitution.  Surely  it  was  right,  it  was 
necessary,  it  was  his  duty  to  prevent  him. 

In  the  mad  tangle  of  his  disordered  brain  he  saw  every- 
thing that  had  happened  that  day  in  a  sinister  light,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  fate  had  thrown  the  man  into  his  hands.  He 
might  have  gone  to  lodge  at  the  Parsonage — he  had  come 
there !  He  might  have  concealed  the  purpose  of  his  coming 
■ — he  had  revealed  it !  He  might  have  said  nothing  of  the 
pocket-book — he  had  shown  it  with  childlike  simplicity! 
Surely  this  was  the  way  out  of  his  difficulties  which  Destiny 
had  marked  out  for  him,  and  not  to  take  it  would  be  to  cover 
himself  with  self-reproaches  when  his  dear  ones  came  down 
to  want. 

Having  persuaded  himself  that  he  could  not  help  but  take 
as  much  of  the  stranger's  money  as  was  necessary  to  pay  the 
interest,  he  began  to  ask  why  he  should  take  so  little.  If  the 
pocket-book  in  the  man's  breast-pocket  contained  enough  to 
pay  the  interest  twenty  times  over,  why  not  take  enough  to 
buy  the  farm  out  and  out  ?  That  would  enable  him  to  leave  to 
Elin  the  inheritance  which  he  had  lost  through  his  brother's 
extravagance  and  crime.  This  man  was  about  to  take  it 
away  from  her — he  must  not  and  he  should  not  do  so ! 

Stage  by  stage  he  pushed  back  the  bulwarks  of  conscience 
until  he  came  to  ask  himself  why  he  should  not  take  all.  His 
mind  was  clogged  and  numb  by  this  time,  but  he  knew  well 
what  that  meant.  It  meant  taking  the  stranger's  life.  There 
was  at  first  an  indescribable  horror  in  the  thoug'ht  of  killing  a 
human  being,  but  after  a  moment  it  passed  away.  This  man 
alone  stood  between  his  dear  ones  and  shelter — why  shouldn't 
he?     This  man  threatened  to  take  their  lives  by  exposing 


THE   PRODIGAL    SON  393 

them  to  starvation — why  shouldn't  he  take  his  life 
instead  ? 

A  momentary  qualm  came  with  the  thought  that  he  would 
be  attacking  one  who  had  trusted  himself  to  the  hospitality  of 
his  house,  a  defenseless  man  in  his  sleep.  But  he  thought 
of  the  stranger's  heartless  laughter,  his  callousness  to  their 
condition,  and  recalled  what  he  had  said  of  his  mother,  and 
pictured  her  sitting  there  surrounded  by  every  comfort  while 
his  own  mother,  born  in  that  place,  was  turned  out  to  perish, 
and  then  his  gorge  rose  again  and  his  heart  knew  no  pity. 

He  began  to  ask  himself  how  it  could  be  done.  It  could 
be  done  quite  easily.  Nobody  except  themselves  had  seen  the 
man ;  nobody  else  would  ever  know  that  he  had  been  to  their 
house.  He  could  tell  his  mother  and  Elin  that  the  stranger 
had  gone  away  in  the  early  morning.  They  would  believe 
him,  and  even  if  they  did  not  they  would  hold  their  tongues, 
for  his  interest  would  be  their  interest,  and  all  he  would  do 
would  be  done  for  them. 

A  new  and  awful  light  illumined  his  gloomy  mind,  and  he 
saw  himself  doing  everything.  No  other  eye  would  see,  no 
other  ear  would  hear.  It  was  freezing  hard  to-night,  and  if  ii 
was  found  in  the  drowning  pool  when  the  ice  melted  the  story 
would  be  that  the  stranger  had  lost  his  way  in  the  snowstorm 
and  stumbled  over  the  rocks. 

Having  satisfied  himself  that  he  could  defeat  this  world's 
judgment,  the  tortured  man  in  the  toils  of  his  temptation 
began  to  think  of  the  judgment  of  the  next.  But  fear  of  that 
vanished  in  a  moment.  Nothing  was  known  in  the  other 
world  of  what  took  place  in  this  one,  and  God  interfered  but 
little  in  the  affairs  of  men ! 

At  the  thought  of  God  a  singing  noise  came  into  his  ears 
like  water  in  the  ears  of  a  drowning  man.  It  was  his  con- 
science going  down  after  its  last  gasp,  for  he  was  telling  him- 
self that  murder  though  it  might  be,  and  contrary  to  God's 
law,  God  had  done  nothing  for  him,  and  therefore  he  was  not 
called  upon  to  do  anything  for  God.  He  had  been  a  good 
man  all  his  life,  yet  God  had  left  him  in  the  lurch.  God  and 
the  world  were  letting  his  mother  and  Elin  perish,  therefore 
he  must  fight  the  world — and  God! 

In  the  last  convulsion  of  his  human  nature  he  remembered 
26 


394  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

that  once  before  the  impulse  to  kill  had  come  to  him,  and  that 
he  had  suffered  the  tortures  of  the  damned  whenever  after- 
ward he  had  thought  of  it.  But  that  was  different,  that  was 
in  the  whirlwind  of  outraged  passion,  and  if  he  had  carried 
out  his  threat  it  would  have  been  the  worst  of  crimes,  the  un- 
pardonable sin,  the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost — a  brother's 
murder!  A  thousand  times  he  had  thanked  God  that  Oscar 
had  not  lived  to  come  home,  but  how  strange  were  the  ways 
of  fate — another  man,  another  heartless  prodigal,  had  come 
there,  and  if  his  dear  ones  were  to  be  saved  from  starvation 
and  the  consequences  of  Oscar's  crimes,  he  knew  what  he 
had  to  do ! 

"  Let  prodigal  pay  for  prodigal,"  he  thought  again,  and 
then  he  leaped  up  from  the  bed. 

His  brute  nature,  goaded  on  by  the  flattering  devil  of  drink, 
had  conquered  his  conscience,  yet  his  knees  knocked  together 
as  he  went  on  tiptoe  by  his  mother's  room,  and  when  he  came 
to  Elin's  door  he  could  hardly  breathe.  Their  pure  souls 
were  sleeping  in  the  protecting  atmosphere  of  prayer;  and 
when  he  asked  himself  what  he  was  to  say  in  the  morning  if 
they  wanted  to  know  where  he  had  got  the  money,  his  mind 
was  so  clogged  and  numb  that  he  could  find  no  answer. 

But  this  thought,  with  the  vision  that  came  after  it  of  how 
his  mother  and  Elin  would  look  at  him  with  searching  and 
suspicious  glances — of  how  when  all  would  be  over  and  ho 
hoped  to  be  at  rest  he  would  find  them  sitting  together  in 
silence,  staring  at  nothing — nearly  broke  down  the  brute  in 
him  and  his  whole  body  was  shaken  by  a  kind  of  tearless  sob. 
Nevertheless  the  flash  of  human  light  on  his  dark  heart  only 
made  the  blackness  more  profound,  and  after  a  moment  he 
went  on  with  his  preparations. 

When  he  stepped  on  tiptoe  into  the  hall,  the  two  sheep-dogs 
who  had  been  sleeping  on  the  mat  by  the  door  got  up  and 
stretched  themselves  and  yawned,  and  lest  they  should  make 
a  noise  he  took  them  out  and  locked  them  up  in  a  shed. 
After  that  he  went  over  to  the  stable,  which  was  at  some 
distance  from  the  dwelling,  and  saddled  and  bridled  the 
stranger's  mare,  and  then  with  a  sharp  cut  of  his  whip  he  sent 
her  galloping  and  whinnying  into  the  darkness.  A  breath  of 
icy  wind  was  coming  down  the  valley  as  if  day  were  stirring 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  395 

in  its  morning  sleep,  and  a  faint  pink  and  white  light  in  the 
eastern  sky,  with  a  glint  on  the  western  glaciers,  seemed  to 
say  that  the  dawn  was  near,  but  the  drink  was  in  Magnus's 
eyes  and  he  could  not  see  clearly. 

No  snow  had  fallen  since  the  traveler  arrived,  and  re- 
turning to  the  front  of  the  farmstead  Magnus  made  back- 
ward tracks  from  the  porch  to  the  river,  partly  in  order  to 
obliterate  the  stranger's  footsteps  and  partly  to  conceal  his 
own  when  he  should  come  out  again,  carrying  a  heavy  bur- 
den. The  man  was  gone  by  this  time,  and  Magnus  was  like 
a  night-bird  hovering  about  his  own  house  and  thinking  of 
his  prey. 

When  he  returned  to  the  hall  there  was  no  sound  there 
except  that  of  the  ashes  slipping  in  the  stove,  and  of  the  clock 
ticking  in  the  darkness  the  deliberate  seconds.  He  took  off 
his  boots,  leaving  on  his  snow-stockings  only,  and  then  he 
picked  up  a  large  cushion  from  the  arm-chair  and  stepped  to 
the  stranger's  door  and  listened. 

But  heaven  as  well  as  hell  is  in  the  heart  of  every  man,  as 
long  as  life  is  with  him,  and  the  tearless  sob  came  back  to 
Magnus  and  shook  his  whole  body,  as  he  thought  at  the  last 
moment  of  the  awful  pity  of  the  thing  he  had  to  do.  Yet 
telling  himself  again  that  God  did  nothing  in  this  world,  and 
saying  once  more,  "  Let  prodigal  pay  for  prodigal,"  he  turned 
the  handle  and  opened  the  door. 

Then  he  stepped  softly  into  the  guest-room  and  bolted  the 
door  behind  him. 


VII 

Anna,  at  that  moment,  had  awakened  from  a  frightening 
dream.  On  first  going  to  her  room  she  had  been  troubled  by 
the  memory  of  what  she  had  done  to  awaken  evil  thoughts  in 
Magnus,  and  visions  had  come  to  her  of  how,  if  anything 
happened,  Magnus  might  say,  "  You  put  it  into  my  head, 
mother."  To  banish  her  self-reproaches  she  had  said  a  prayer 
for  forgiveness,  telling  God  she  had  never  once  thought  of 
theft  or  violence,  but  only  of  Magnus  and  Elin  and  the  in- 
heritance they  had  lost  through  her  importunity,  and  hoW 


396  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

cruel  it  seemed  that  while  other  people  had  so  much  more 
than  they  wanted,  such  hard  times  should  come  to  her  dear 
children. 

Then  she  had  g'one  to  bed,  and  the  voice  of  the  stranger, 
■which  had  teased  her  all  the  evening  through  with  memories 
she  could  not  fix,  haunted  her  again,  and  the  light  being  out, 
and  her  eyes  no  longer  disturbed  by  sight  of  the  stranger's 
different  face,  she  knew  whose  voice  it  reminded  her  of.  It 
was  a  voice  very  dear  to  her,  a  voice  always  near  to  her, 
Oscar's  voice,  which  she  was  never  to  hear  again. 

When,  with  a  thrill  of  the  heart,  this  thought  came  to 
Anna,  it  altered  the  stranger  altogether.  His  laughter  ceased 
to  be  cruel,  and  what  he  had  said  of  himself  not  being  a  good 
son  became  touching.  And  when  she  .thought  of  his  poor 
mother  waiting  for  her  prodigal  and  so  soon  to  see  him  home 
again,  and  pictured  her  joy  when  he  should  say,  "  Mother, 
mother!  I'm  here  at  last,  and  we  shall  never,  never  be  parted 
again !  "  her  heart  overflowed  with  sympathy,  and  she  was 
sorry  she  had  not  been  kinder  to  him  when  he  was  going 
to  bed. 

Then  she  went  to  sleep  and  the  dream  spirit  took  her 
back  to  the  good  time  when  she  had  two  boys  in  her  house, 
a  dark  one  and  a  fair  one,  and  the  father  had  punished  the 
dark  one  unjustly,  and  his  stern  and  gloomy  soul,  with  its 
sense  of  wrong,  would  not  suffer  him  to  explain,  but  the  fair 
one  was  sobbing  out  a  confession — "  It  was  not  Magnus,  it 
was  me,  papa  " — and  a  moment  afterward  two  happy  little 
heads  were  on  the  same  pillow  side  by  side,  and  both  were 
laughing  merrily. 

In  the  shifting  kaleidoscope  of  her  dream  this  picture  had 
hardily  gone  when  Anna  awoke  with  the  clearest  conscious- 
ness of  Oscar's  voice  crying,  "  Mother!  Mother!  Mother!  " 
She  thought  it  must  have  been  the  stranger  calling  in  his 
sleep,  for  the  china  ornaments  on  her  dressing-table  seemed 
to  ring,  but  when  she  listened  there  was  no  other  sound. 

Then  the  memory  of  Magnus's  temptation  came  rolling 
back  on  her  like  a  thundercloud  over  a  clear  sky,  and  she 
got  up  to  go  to  her  son's  room  to  make  sure  that  he  was 
in  bed. 

Magnus  had  not  been  to  bed ! 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  397 

With  candle  in  hand,  and  still  in  her  night-dress,  Anna 
hurried  to  the  hall,  crying  in  a  whisper  of  only  half -realized 
apprehension,  "  Magnus !    Magnus !  " 

There  was  no  reply. 

She  listened  at  the  stranger's  door  and  thought  she  heard 
a  movement  inside  the  room,  but  she  dared  not  enter  or 
knock. 

"  Magnus !  Magnus !  "  she  whispered  again,  but  no  an- 
swer came  back  to  her.  She  heard  the  neighing  of  a  horse 
that  seemed  to  be  running  round  and  round  the  house  and 
her  flesh  began  to  creep,  for  that  sound  in  the  night  was  like 
the  cry  of  a  disembodied  soul.  Then  there  came  the  dead- 
ened noise  of  dogs  barking,  and  she  knew  they  were  their 
own  dogs  and  that  they  must  have  been  shut  up  in  an  out- 
house. This  started  a  new  thought,  and  she  ran  to  the  outer 
door  to  see  if  it  had  been  opened. 

The  door  was  unbolted ! 

She  was  about  to  open  it  and  cry  again  when  she  heard  a 
noise  behind  her.  It  came  from  the  stranger's  room,  and 
putting  her  ear  to  the  door  she  distinctly  heard  the  sounds 
of  sobs.    Some  one  inside  was  sobbing. 

She  knew  the  low,  stifled  voice.  It  was  Magnus.  He  was 
on  his  knees  or  prostrate  on  the  floor,  and  he  was  sobbing  as 
if  his  heart  would  break.  At  that  Anna  boldly  tried  to  open 
the  door,  but  found  it  fastened  on  the  inside. 

"  Magnus !  Magnus ! "  she  whispered,  but  he  did  not 
answer. 

She  was  now  sure  that  the  awful  thing  she  had  thought  of 
had  come  to  pass.  Her  suspense  had  deepened  to  fear,  but 
pity  and  love  conquered  every  other  feeling,  and  going  down, 
on  her  knees  in  her  night-dress,  she  whispered  through  the 
key-hole : 

"  Magnus !  Magnus !  Open  the  door.  It  is  only  mother  I 
It  was  all  my  fault,  dear !    Let  me  come  in !  " 

But  the  smothered  sobbing  inside  continued,  and  no  other 
sound  came  back  to  her.  Then  in  the  silence  of  all  else  she 
heard  the  sound  of  sleigh-bells  outside.  At  first  she  thought 
this  must  be  a  ringing  in  her  ears,  but  the  bells  grew  louder 
and  came  nearer,  and  then  the  dogs  in  the  outhouse  barked 
again. 


398  THE   PRODIGAL    SON 

Fear  deepened  to  terror,  the  necessity  for  concealment 
flashed  upon  her,  and  she  knocked  at  the  bedroom  door  and 
cried  in  the  same  affrighted  whisper: 

"  Magnus,  there  is  some  one  coming.  Wait  till  he  has 
gone.  Don't  stir.  Don't  come  out.  Only  tell  me  you 
hear  me." 

The  sobbing  ceased,  but  Magnus  did  not  speak.  Mean- 
time the  sleigh-bells  came  nearer  and  nearer,  with  the  crack- 
ing of  a  whip,  the  whoop  of  a  driver,  and  the  hiss  of  runners 
in  the  soft  snow. 

"  Magnus !  Magnus ! "  cried  Anna  loudly,  in  a  last  effort, 
but  she  was  stopped  by  the  near  shout  of  some  one  outside, 
"  Helloa !  helloa  there !  " — and  she  rose  to  her  feet  with  an 
intention  of  bolting  the  outer  door. 

Before  she  could  do  so  there  was  a  metallic  knock  on  the 
window-pane,  a  voice  crying,  "  God  be  with  you ! "  and  foot- 
steps hurrying  up  the  outer  steps.  Then  Anna  turned  about 
and  fled  back  to  her  bedroom. 

While  she  dressed  she  heard  the  outer  door  thrown  open 
and  the  sound  of  many  persons  trooping  into  the  hall.  They 
were  veiy  bright  and  happy,  for  they  laughed  merrily  and 
talked  all  together,  and  the  house  was  full  of  noise. 

When  she  came  out  of  the  badstofa  she  met  the  postboy 
on  his  way  to  the  elt-house  to  boil  water  to  give  his  ponies  a 
hot  drink,  and  on  returning  to  the  hall  she  found  the  door 
and  the  shutters  of  the  window  open,  the  daylight  streaming 
in,  and  the  postman  himself  there  with  several  passengers, 
including  the  Factor,  who  was  muffled  up  to  the  eyes,  and 
Margret  Neilsen,  who  was  unrolling  herself  from  the  folds 
of  a  white  bearskin, 

"  Helloa !  "  cried  everybody,  and  the  postman  said,  "  Here 
we  are  at  last,  you  see!  We  couldn't  come  yesterday  by 
reason  of  the  snowstorm,  but  the  Factor  actually  got  me  to 
start  away  as  soon  as  it  stopped  at  eleven  o'clock  last  night — 
eleven ! " 

"  Well,  we  don't  kill  a  pig  every  day,  do  we  ?  "  said  the 
Factor,  and  while  the  men  laughed  and  winked,  Margret 
Neilsen  said : 

"And  how's  Anna?" 

Anna  was  speechless  and  ghastly  white,  so  the  Factor  said» 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  399 

"  We  seem  to  have  startled  her  out  of  her  senses,  for  she 
looks  as  if  she  had  seen  a  ghost.    But  where's  Magnus?  " 

"  Magnus  ?     Oh — somewhere  about,"  said  Anna. 

"  And  how's  my  precious  Elin  ?  "  said  Aunt  Margret. 

"  She's  not  up  yet,"  said  Anna. 

"  Then  I'll  go  and  waken  her.  Which  is  her  room — this 
one  ?  "  said  Aunt  Margret,  making  for  the  guest-room. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Anna,  intercepting  her  and  standing  with 
her  back  to  the  guest-room  door.  "  That  one,"  and  Aunt 
Margi-et  went  into  Elin's  bedroom. 

"  And  now,"  said  the  Factor,  with  winks  all  round  him, 
"  what  about  the  other  one  ?  " 

Anna  looked  at  the  Factor  in  mute  terror. 

"  The  new-comer,  you  know  ?     Not  stirring  yet,  I  sup- 


pose 


1  " 


"  New-comer  ? " 

"  Well,  guest,  friend,  whatever  you  choose  to  call  him." 

"What  friend?" 

"  Why,  the  friend  who  came  last  night,  of  course." 

Anna,  who  had  never  lied  in  her  life,  wanted  to  lie  now, 
but  she  could  not  do  so.  "  I  don't  understand  you.  Factor," 
she  said  faintly. 

"  Well !  "  said  the  Factor,  and  then,  as  if  by  an  after- 
thought, "  I  thought  he  wouldn't  wish  to  startle  you,  having 
been  so  long  away  and  supposed  to  be  dead.  But  don't  you 
know  yet  who  he  is  ?  " 

Anna  trembled  and  said,  "  Of  whom  are  you  speaking, 
Oscar  Neilsen  ? " 

"  Of  the  tall  fair  man  with  the  pointed  beard  who  came  to 
lodge  at  your  house  last  night." 

Anna  was  now  speechless  with  terror,  and  the  company, 
misunderstanding  her  silence,  became  suddenly  very  grave. 
"  Can  it  be  possible  that  he  lost  his  way  in  the  snowstorm?  " 
said  one.  "  But  he  knew  every  inch  of  the  road,  and  could 
find  his  way  blindfold,"  said  another.  "  Such  a  night, 
though,"  said  a  third.  "  He  got  as  far  as  the  House  of 
Eest."  "  But  the  boy  there  said  he  would  never  see  the  end 
of  his  journey." 

"  Well,  this  is  serious,"  said  the  Factor.  "  The  Minister 
wanted  him  to  stay  at  Government  House  over-night,  but  he 
seemed  so  anxious  to  see  you " 


400  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

"  To  see  mc/"  said  Anna. 

"  Naturally,  after  his  long  absence.  Strange  I  very  strange ! 
But  do  you  mean  to  say  that  no  traveler  came  here  last 
night?" 

A  vague  shadow  of  the  Factor's  meaning  had  flashed  upon 
Anna's  mind,  and  the  terror  of  a  moment  ago  had  deepened 
to  horror.  What  had  Magnus  done  in  the  blindness  of  his 
passion  and  despair?  But  even  then  the  desire  to  save  her 
son  was  above  all  other  emotions,  and  she  was  about  to  deny 
all  knowledge  of  the  traveler,  when  the  door  behind  her  was 
opened  and  a  voice  over  her  shoulder  said : 

"Yes,  a  traveler  did  come  here  last  night,  but  he  went 
away  again  in  the  early  morning." 

It  was  Magnus,  and  when  Anna  turned  to  look  at  him  she 
drew  a  deep  breath  of  relief,  for  she  knew  he  was  telling  the 
truth.  His  face,  since  she  saw  it  last,  had  undergone  a 
m;^'sterious  and  miraculous  change.  The  gloomy  arrogance 
of  despair  had  gone,  something  had  carried  light  into  the 
darkness  of  his  soul,  and  he  looked  like  a  man  who  had  come 
as  from  the  immediate  presence  of  his  God. 

"  But  this  is  stranger  than  ever,"  said  the  Factor.  "  It  was 
known  that  he  had  taken  a  large  sum  of  money  out  of  the 
Bank,  and  everybody  supposed  he  meant  to  buy  up  this 
place  at  the  auction." 

"  Yes,"  said  Aunt  Margret,  coming  out  of  Elin's  bedroom, 
"  to  give  to  his  old  mother." 

And  then  Elin's  soft  voice  was  heard  to  say,  "  Has  the 
Sheriff  come  yet  ?  " 

"  Who  is  asking  for  the  SheriiBF  ?  "  said  the  Sheriff  himself, 
coming  forward  at  that  moment. 

"  The  gentleman  gave  me  this  pocket-book  last  night,  and 
told  me  to  deliver  it  to  you  before  the  auction  began  this 
morning." 

"  It's  not  for  me,  though,"  said  the  Sheriff,  who  had  taken 
the  pocket-book  to  the  table  and  opened  it,  and  was  reading 
the  writing  on  the  sheet  of  paper  which  fell  out  first,  " '  For 
Elin,  Oscar's  daughter,  from  Christian  Christiansson.' " 

"  A  present  for  Elin,  perhaps,"  said  the  Factor. 

"  A  thousand-crown  note !  "  cried  the  Sheriff. 
•     The  gaiety  of  the  company  was  bi'eaking  into  loud  con- 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  401 

gratulations,  when  the  Sheriff,  who  was  still  opening  the  folds 
of  the  pocket-book,  said,  "Wait!  There's  more  than  that — 
much  more!  One — two — three — fifty  thousand — another — 
and  another — and  " — then  the  rapid  rustling  of  bank-notes, 
followed  by  the  delighted  cry,  "  Two  hundred  thousand 
crowns !  " 

"  The  very  sum  he  took  out  of  the  bank ! "  said  the 
Factor. 

"  Kiss  me,  my  precious !  "  said  Aunt  Margret. 

"  M«,  too,  granddaughter,"  cried  the  Factor. 

Anna  looked  stunned,  and  Magnus  like  one  who  wished  the 
earth  to  swallow  him.  But  the  Factor  rattled  along  with 
shouts  and  laughter. 

"  JN'ow  I  understand  everything.  He  has  given  the  money 
to  the  girl,  but  left  it  to  her  friends  and  relations  to  advise 
her  as  to  what  she  is  to  do  with  it." 

Elin's  blue  eyes  being  still  full  of  bewilderment,  the  Factor 
kissed  her  again  and  said,  "  Now  who  do  you  think  has  left 
you  this  great  fortune,  little  one  ?  " 

"  Christian  Christiansson,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Certainly !  But  don't  you  know  who  Christian  Chris- 
tiansson is  ?    !N"o  ?    You  neither,  Anna  ?  " 

Anna  was  trembling  on  the  verge  of  discovery.  "  Who  ?  " 
she  said,  but  rather  with  her  lips  than  with  her  voice. 

"  Why,  Oscar — your  son  Oscar,  who  isn't  dead  at  all,  and 
has  come  back  and  made  amends  to  everybody!  I  always 
knew  there  was  good  stuff  in  my  godson !  " 

The  truth  burst  on  Anna  in  a  whirlwind  of  joy — joy  that 
her  son  was  alive,  joy  that  he  had  come  home  and  justified 
her  faith  in  him,  joy,  too,  though  with  a  twinge  of  pain  in  it, 
that  he  had  gone  away  again  and  further  trouble  with  Mag- 
nus was  averted.  A  prayer  gushed  from  her  heart  and  she 
wanted  to  go  down  on  her  knees. 

"  My  son !  "  she  said  in  a  breathless  whisper. 

"  My  father !  "  said  Elin,  with  a  tenderness  the  word  had 
never  had  for  her  before. 

The  company  were  now  cackling  and  crowing  again,  but 
the  two  women — the  old  one  and  the  young  one — looked 
round  for  Magnus.  He  was  standing  at  the  back,  his  strong 
face  all  broken  up  and  melted.     It  was  not  at  this  moment 


4{J2  THE    TEODIGAL    SON 

that  the  truth  had  first  burst  on  him.  That  had  come  like 
a  blinding  blow  of  light  the  instant  he  had  entered  the  guest- 
room and  realized  that  God  did  something  after  all  in  this 
world  for  His  children. 

"  Mother — Elin !  "  he  stammered,  and  he  opened  his  arms 
to  them. 

"  It's  the  miracle,  isn't  it  ? "  said  the  girl. 

It  was  the  miracle  indeed. 


There  was  no  auction  in  Thingvellir  that  day,  and  when 
the  bells  rang  for  service  the  company  went  to  church.  The 
little  wooden  tabernacle  was  full  of  worshippers,  for  it  was 
'New  Year's  Day,  and  the  farmers  had  ridden  over  with  their 
families  from  all  the  country  round  about.  They  sat,  in  their 
thick  mufflers  and  snow-stockings  and  the  mist  of  their  smok- 
ing breath,  as  far  up  the  church  as  the  square  rail  enclosing 
the  communion  table,  on  stools  about  the  octagonal  pulpit 
and  even  among  the  refuse,  the  lumber  and  potted-meat 
barrels  that  were  stored  in  the  gallery. 

The  Factor  was  there,  very  loud  in  his  responses,  fixing  up 
the  figures  on  the  tin  plate  which  announced  the  hymns; 
Elin,  too,  with  the  wonder  not  yet  gone  from  her  innocent 
blue  eyes;  Anna  with  her  tempered  happiness  and  a  heart 
overflowing  with  thanksgiving,  and  (most  strange  of  all) 
Magnus  himself,  a  changed  and  humbled  man. 

Everybody  looked  at  Magnus,  in  surprise  at  seeing  him 
there,  but  Magnus  looked  at  no  one.  While  the  Pastor  read 
the  lesson  ("  All  we  like  sheep  have  gone  astray"),  while  he 
gave  out  his  text  ("  This  day  shalt  thou  be  with  Me  in 
Paradise"),  while  he  preached  his  homely  sermon  on  the 
conversion  of  the  dying  thief  on  the  cross,  showing  the  short- 
ness of  time,  the  power  of  redemption,  and  the  certainty  of 
death's  sundering,  and  even  while  the  deacon  chanted  the 
anthem  ("  Weeping  may  endure  for  a  night,  but  joy  cometh 
in  the  morning"),  and  the  congi-egation  sang  the  closing 
hymn,  and  Elin's  silvery  young  voice  ringing  up  to  the  round 
ceiling  reminded  him  of  her  mother's,  Magnus  sat  with  his 
face  toward  the  picture  on  the  wall  above  the  communion- 
table. 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  403 

It  was  a  picture  of  Christ  in  white  robes  and  among  warm 
eaetern  foliage,  healing  the  blind  man  by  the  wayside,  and 
while  he  looked  at  it  a  great  softening  of  the  heart  came  to 
him,  for  he  thought  of  the  blessed  but  awful  moment,  only 
just  passed,  when  the  scales  fell  from  his  own  eyes,  and  his 
naked  soul  stood  face  to  face  with  its  Maker. 

That  was  the  moment  when,  with  murder  in  his  mind  and 
a  spirit  of  war  with  God,  he  had  entered  the  stranger's  bed- 
room and  bolted  the  door  behind  him,  and  then  found  that 
his  victim  had  been  snatched  out  of  his  hands  and  heard  a 
fearful  voice  which  seemed  to  say,  "  Stop !  or  the  voice  of 
thy  brother's  blood  will  cry  unto  Me  from  the  ground !  " 

When  the  service  was  over  there  was  much  handshaking 
and  well-wishing  outside  the  porch,  for  rumor  of  what  had 
happened  in  Anna's  household  had  passed  from  mouth  to 
mouth,  but  Magnus  took  his  old  mother  on  his  arm  and 
walked  home  with  her  alone,  except  for  Elin,  who  tripped 
through  the  crisp  snow  by  their  side,  humming  a  little  of  the 
last  hymn. 

The  young  people  were  racing  the  ponies  to  and  fro  in 
their  joy  of  the  first  snow;  the  old  ones  were  gossiping  in 
groups  on  the  exciting  news  of  the  day ;  and  the  Factor,  who 
was  swinging  along  in  his  plaid-shawl,  with  a  contented  ex- 
pression, like  an  old  cow  going  home  in  the  evening  with  her 
udder  full,  was  saluting  everybody,  and  inviting  all  and 
sundry  to  the  Inn-farm  for  a  cup  of  coffee. 

It  was  more  than  a  cup  of  coffee  he  had  had  prepared  for 
them,  for  assuming  command  while  Magnus  seemed  par- 
alyzed by  surprise,  he  had  ordered  a  lamb  to  be  killed,  and 
Aunt  Margret  remained  behind  to  roast  it. 

The  dinner  was  a  large  and  long  one,  for  everybody  was 
welcome  to  it,  and  before  it  came  to  an  end  the  Factor  rose 
to  propose  a  toast. 

"  Every  snow-cowl  has  an  end,"  he  said,  "  and  I  am  happy 
to  inform  you  all  that  the  cloud  that  has  hung  so  long  over 
the  Inn-farm,  over  Anna  Magnusson's  family  and  over  my 
family,  is  now  gone  for  good.  '  Show  the  man  and  not  the 
table,'  says  one  of  our  Sagas,  but  in  this  case  we  have  had  to 
show  you  the  table  and  not  the  man.  He  will  be  on  his  way 
to  Reykjavik  by  this  time,  I  suppose,  and,  if  prophecy  is  the 


404  THE    TRODIGAL    SON 

wise  man's  guess,  I  guess  he  will  get  such  a  rousing  welcome 
there  as  no  man  ever  had  in  this  old  island  before. 

"  Brothers  and  sisters,  I  give  you  a  health — Anna's  long- 
lost  son,  our  long-lost  son,  Iceland's  long-lost  son — Oscar 
Stephen-son !  " 

The  toast  was  received  with  shouts  and  the  jingling  of 
glasses,  but  Anna  did  not  drink,  and  Magnus  dropped  his 
head. 


vm 

On  the  east  of  the  plain  and  the  lake  of  Thingvellir  there 
is  a  pass  going  over  the  mountain  of  Hengel  to  the  little 
trading  station  of  Eyrarbakki.  It  winds  through  a  number 
of  geysers  and  mineral  springs  Avhich  seem  to  be  always 
smoking  against  the  bare  side  of  the  fell.  They  are  little 
pools  of  simmering  water  in  the  crusted  yellow  earth,  some  of 
them  white  and  sparkling  as  a  star,  some  round  and  deep- 
blue  as  a  woman's  eye,  some  oval  and  blood-red,  like  the 
living  heart  of  some  monstrous  animal. 

You  walk  warily  on  the  path  between,  for  the  earth  is  hot 
and  thin  under  his  feet,  and  sometimes  it  throbs  like  the  lid 
of  a  boiling  kettle,  and  sometimes  there  is  a  smothered  roar 
beneath  you  as  of  mighty  battles  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth, 
and  then  the  pools  begin  to  boil  and  send  up  spouts  of  foam- 
ing water  and  tongues  of  liquid  flame,  and  the  air  is  full  of 
sulphurous  vapor. 

An  awful,  evil,  and  devilish  place,  looking  like  a  cauldron 
over  a  circle  of  hellish  fire.  But  higher  up  the  pass  the  snow 
lies  white  and  calm  and  crisp,  and  higher  still  are  the  glisten- 
ing glaciers,  and  there,  while  the  mountain  quakes  in  its 
volcanic  throes,  the  avalanche  comes  down  in  winter  so 
suddenly  that  no  man  can  hear  or  see  it,  for  it  is  loud  as  the 
crack  of  doom  and  swift  as  the  shaft  of  death. 

At  daybreak  that  day  Christian  Ghristiansson  was  crossing 
this  pass  on  his  way  to  Eyrarbakki,  intending  to  take  ship  to 
Norway.  Although  it  was  only  two  hours  since  he  had  pushed 
open  the  guest-room  window  and  left  the  Inn-farm,  he  was 
already  a  stronger  and  braver  man.     Then  he  had  tkought 


THE    PEODIGAL    SON  405 

of  nothing  but  ending  everything,  and  the  shadow  of  self- 
destruction  had  floated  before  him,  but  now  he  saw  clearly 
that  until  God  ordained  he  should  die  it  was  his  duty  to 
live.  As  he  had  sinned  so  he  should  sufFer.  He  must  pay 
his  penalty  to  its  last  pang,  its  uttermost  moment.  His 
penalty  was  to  live  on  without  the  love  he  had  forfeited,  the 
happiness  he  had  lost  the  right  to  claim.  It  was  hard,  but  it 
was  just,  and  he  must  face  the  end  without  flinching.  Wel- 
come life,  then,  as  long  as  it  lasted !  Welcome  death  when 
it  was  due ! 

After  he  had  passed  through  the  heat  and  smoke  and  come 
out  on  the  clear  heights  beyond  he  paused  to  look  back.  The 
world  around  was  all  white  and  stark  under  the  snow  of  last 
night's  storm,  but  a  crimson  shaft  from  the  sun  which  had 
not  yet  risen  was  crossing  the  topmost  peaks,  and  the  low- 
lands were  still  sleeping  in  a  veil  of  mist.  He  thought  he 
could  hear  the  ringing  of  the  church  bell,  and  that  sweet 
human  sound  came  winging  its  way  up  to  him  through  the 
vapor  of  the  sulphur-pits  as  the  singing  of  a  star  might  rise 
through  the  clouds  of  the  world  to  the  ears  of  the  souls  in 
heaven. 

Presently  the  sun  strode  up  and  the  mist  fell  back,  and 
then  he  saw  in  the  valley  far  below  the  little  church  itself 
and  the  home  he  had  left  behind  him.  He  had  left  happiness 
there,  and  love,  and  warm  comfort,  for  that  was  his  repara- 
tion to  the  dear  ones  he  had  injured,  and  now  for  his 
atonement  to  God  he  was  going  out  alone,  stripped  of  every- 
thing and  unknown  to  any  one. 

It  was  as  much  as  he  could  bear  to  think  of  that,  but  he 
smiled  to  himself  sadly  while  he  pictured  the  surprise  and  joy 
of  the  happy  scene  when  the  girl  would  come  out  with  the 
pocket-book  and  the  auction  would  be  stopped.  He  thought, 
too,  of  his  mother  in  church,  with  a  soul  full  of  gratitude, 
and  saw  Elin  with  a  ray  of  sunlight  from  the  lead-lighted 
window  on  the  heart-breaking  sweetness  of  her  smile.  It  was 
not  thus  that  he  had  expected  to  leave  them  when  for  ten 
years  he  had  worked  by  the  sweat  of  body  and  spirit  that 
he  might  come  back  and  be  forgiven.  But  it  was  not  in  this 
world  that  the  prodigal  could  be  taken  back;  not  here  that 
any  earthly  father  could  run  to  meet  him  and  throw  his  arms 


406  THE    PRODIGAL    SON 

about  his  neck.  What  he  had  sown  he  must  reap,  and  not  all 
his  penitence  and  tears  could  undo  what  he  had  done. 

It  was  long  before  he  could  take  his  last  look  at  the  home 
he  was  leaving  forever,  and  when  at  length  he  drew  a  deep 
breath  and  went  on,  he  had  to  comfort  himself  with  the 
thought  that  Thora  would  be  pleased  with  him  for  giving  up 
their  child  to  Magnus,  Her  voice  from  the  other  world 
seemed  to  come  to  him  and  say,  "  Well  dope !  Poor,  brave, 
wounded  heart,  God's  angels  rejoice  over  you !  "  But  it  was 
hard  to  find  solace  in  heavenly  cheer  while  his  blood  ran 
warm  and  yearned  for  human  company. 

Before  he  was  aware  of  it  he  was  at  the  foot  of  the  glaciers, 
those  great  lone  homes  of  Nature  never  trodden  by  the  foot 
of  man  or  animal,  where  no  bird  sings  and  no  flower  grows, 
where  only  the  wind  moans  over  motionless  billows  of  ice  and 
the  sun  rises  in  a  blank  barrenness  on  chasms  of  the  frozen 
deep.  Looking  back  from  this  place  he  could  see  nothing  of 
the  valley  and  the  houses  of  men,  or  of  anything  but  a  wide 
circle  of  mountain  peaks,  all  silent  and  white,  in  which  he 
was  the  only  living  thing.  And  then  the  feeling  of  being  cut 
off  from  the  rest  of  humanity  amid  these  grand  but  grim  sur- 
roundings elevated  his  senses  and  affected  him  like  music, 
like  composing,  with  a  sort  of  ecstacy  Avhich  was  part  rap- 
ture and  partly  pain. 

In  this  ecstasy  of  emotion  he  asked  himself  if  his  life  had 
been  wasted,  if  happiness  was  gone  from  him  even  if,  because 
he  had  sinned,  there  was  nothing  before  him  now  but  renun- 
ciation and  suffering.  And  then  the  teaching  of  his  child- 
hood came  back  to  him  with  a  new  and  sublime  significance, 
and  he  saw  for  the  first  time  the  lesson  of  life  and  the  mean- 
ing of  death.  The  lesson  of  life  was  Duty — to  do  right 
without  expectation  of  reward  or  fear  of  punishment;  and 
the  meaning  of  death  was  to  bring  to  the  sinful,  penitent 
soul  the  pardon  the  world  can  not  give. 

Then  thank  God  for  life,  but  thank  God  for  death  also  I 
Whatever  a  man's  sin,  Nature  could  not  forget  it,  and  the 
laws  of  life  could  not  forgive,  but  the  mercy  of  God  was 
without  measure  of  guilt,  and  the  gates  of  heaven  were  wide  I 

God  veiled  His  face  from  His  creatures,  and  to  man's 
flueationing  eyes  the  infinite  wisdom  was  as  blank  as  these 


THE    PRODIGAL    SON  407 

«rkite  walls  of  ice  and  snow,  but  two  thousand  years  ago  a 
simple  Galilean  had  read  this  riddle  of  life  as  no  man  before 
or  since  has  read  it.  lie  had  read  it  for  all  men,  good  or 
bad,  but  most  of  all  for  wayworn  sinners  like  himself,  for 
whom  the  world  has  no  pity,  and  no  forgiveness.  And  though 
he  was  the  guiltiest  of  the  guilty,  and  his  sin  had  found 
him  out,  and  as  the  price  of  his  repentance  he  had  had  to 
give  up  everything  in  life  that  he  held  most  dear — the  love 
of  his  child  and  the  hope  of  pardon  and  reconciliation — yet 
love  and  pardon  and  reconciliation  were  waiting  for  him  still 
when  God's  own  voice  should  call  him,  and  "  this  mortal 
should  put  on  immortality." 

By  this  time  he  was  in  that  mood  in  which  a  man  of  his 
temperament  finds  it  difficult  to  distinguish  the  real  from  the 
imaginary,  in  which  he  hears  the  sounds  of  Nature  and 
mistakes  them  for  voices  from  the  other  world.  He  had  wan- 
dered without  knowing  it  from  the  path  of  the  pass,  which 
was  marked  by  stones  standing  upright  out  of  the  snow, 
when  the  volcanic  fire  in  the  womb  of  the  mountain  began  to 
shake  it  with  mighty  throbs,  and  then  suddenly  the  awful 
stillness  was  broken  by  a  crash  and  a  resounding  rumble  as 
of  echoing  thunder  coming  down  from  the  snow-capped 
heights. 

Oscar  Stephenson  did  not  see  or  hear  or  feel  anything.  He 
was  only  conscious  of  a  burst  of  heavenly  music,  of  a  sense  of 
ten  thousand  angels  singing  an  anthem,  a  triumphant  paean 
or  praise  that  grew  louder  and  louder  every  moment ;  a  sense 
of  blinding  light,  and  of  traveling  at  a  terrific  velocity  into 
the  realms  of  the  sun ;  a  sense  of  the  Day  of  Judgment,  of  the 
life  of  the  world  being  over,  its  busy  throngs  gone,  its 
pageants  finished,  its  honors,  distinctions,  castes,  gold, 
wealth,  and  fame  passed  into  nothingness;  a  sense  of  being" 
outside  the  great  Judgment  Hall  with  an  infinite  multitude 
of  kings  and  beggars,  good  men  and  bad,  the  guilty  and  the 
innocent,  and  of  kneeling  there  among  the  meanest  and  most 
ashamed ;  a  sense  of  a  spirit  stooping  to  him  and  taking  his 
hand  and  saying,  "  Come,"  of  looking  up  into  her  face,  and 
seeing  it  was  Thora,  and  of  his  breath  coming  so  fast  and 
short  that  he  could  scarcely  breathe;  a  sense  of  stumbling 
along  with  his  head  down  and  the  spirit  leading  him  forward 


408  THE    TRODIGAL    SON 

and  singing  as  they  ascended;  a  sense  of  an  overwhelming 
Presence  somewhere  in  front  of  him,  of  the  music  dyinjf 
down  and  becoming  fainter  and  fainter,  and  then  of  an 
awful  hush  and  of  a  blessed  Voice  which  said: 
"For  this  my  son  was  dead  and  is  alive  again,  was  lost 

AND   is    found." 


A  moment  afterward  there  was  no  one  on  Hengel  moun- 
tain, the  great  lone  home  of  Nature  was  calm  and  white  and 
silent. 
I 

(6) 


THE   END 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

Santa  Barbara 


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